


Black Pearl

by F0rce0fnatur3



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, Bloody Kisses, Cinnamon rolls, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gore and Violence, Jukin, M/M, Multi, NSFW, Rough kisses, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, We got it all folks, come one come all, gentle kisses, it will happen kids, lucious the asshole, s, slow pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F0rce0fnatur3/pseuds/F0rce0fnatur3
Summary: You the reader are about to go on an adventure to the underground. You don’t necessarily have a good home life but even so you weren’t expecting what happens to actually change it so drastically! When you come out the other side you weren’t expecting to wake up after your harrowing escape, in the Gaster Brothers home.
Relationships: Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader, wingdings/reader
Comments: 79
Kudos: 117





	1. Welcome to the underground!

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**  


You  open your eyes and as you do so there’s a nagging throbbing rage against your skull. Your cheek is pressed against something soft while your fingers confirm that its a pillow elevating your head from the mattress you’ve been propped upon. Three days ago you were back in your world with your normal life going about your business. Three days ago everything was perfectly fine and you took back all the times you silently wished your life would be more adventurous. You really had only meant that you wanted to go somewhere. That was the most  daring  thing you really wanted in your life. Not what actually ended up happening. You roll to your back and trace with your eyes the shape of the bars leading up to a circular top like a firework in reverse as you spiral your eyeballs around the circular shape overhead and count all thirty three of the bars banning you from escaping. The steel is strong, you’ve tried more than once to bend them with whatever strength you could muster on three days without food.  


A giant birdcage wasn’t the conventional cell you thought you would be subjected too and yet here you were. The fairy lights or as other people referred to them as garden lights are looped around the very top. The height of the cage was at least ten feet high and out of your reach. Lazily you flop your hand above your face as far as the length of your arm can extend and trace the shape of the looped lights and mentally scoff at the attempt to make your jail cell “pretty” and non threatening. When your arm gets tired you let it fall over your stomach. You let your leg dangle off the edge of the bed and look around your little enclosure. A dresser, a bathroom with a little curtain for privacy, a small bookcase with titles that you’ve never heard of. You utter aloud just to have something other than silence as you mockingly joke about there not being a perch for you to swing on or newspaper lining the bottom so you can shit anywhere you like. 

Back and forth your leg swings while your toes meet the floor every-now-and-then before your dull entertainment passes and you grow bored. You switch to rolling over onto your stomach looking out through the bars. The room you’re in but not allowed to frequent is a dome like grand open scoop. There are no windows, only overhead lights as if you’re in an opera stage minus the incline of said stage, and seats for an audience. There are a pair of doors which are always closed and evidently heavy given the thickness of the wood. There are carvings in the oak but its hard to register from this distance. Your cage is stationed in the far right corner of this huge room and you often inspect it taking in the details. The cobblestone fireplace always has a cackling fire which helps break the silence when  he’s  not around to bother you with awkward praises. You look from the mantle to the red leather chair aimed in your direction and next to the fire. It’s  his  favorite spot to plop down into when he strides in to gawk at you. You skip looking at the black and white tiled floor. For some reason the lack of bright light makes you feel a bit dizzy when observing it and so you go back to the bookcase. The room seems like a study to you and you wonder why  he  decided putting a human woman in here in a giant ass bird cage prison would be just the cherry on top of the minimal decor. 

The rotten apple from two days ago has lost its luster and the single bite you took out of it is already bruised and rotting. The tender tan flesh has browned and the sheen of red has wrinkled and withered into a leathery texture which you ran your finger over just a day ago to give yourself something to do other than increase your anxiety in the situation at hand. 

“You’re going to go out of your mind if you keep sticking to those habits you know.”

Your surly friend with an oddly deep voice for being something so small, casually chides you from above. You tilt your head to look past the slit in the bars above your head moving away from the circular topping of the cage to the butt of the one suspended just above yours dangling from the ceiling. You only have had this view unless you stand and your little companion stands to look down at you. You can however, see his weblike toes extended from between the bars suspending themselves in the air as he lays upon his back with his arms behind his small head and leisurely has one leg crossed over the other. You discovered him after you were thrown in here and the endless weeping caused him to peep up and bark at you to desist. Since then your ill mannered friend and you have engaged in conversation whenever one of you wasn’t weak enough to do so. It wasn’t long until the pair of you got to the topic of how each of you came to be here came up. Two days later you develop a small kinship given the parallels of your predicaments. His abode is much smaller in size than yours making it seem like a palace, but his stature also seems to fit inside perfectly despite when he elongates to stretch and his feet stick out like this. 

Supposedly the amphibious looking creature suspended above your  palace  was a highly regarded doctor that bordered on doing some questionable things during his practice. He went against a high order that was delivered to him months ago refusing to carry out the mad monsters wishes and landed himself in this  tiny little apartment  as he liked to call it. You found the overall description vague and feigned reluctance when speaking with him while the back part of your brain wondered if he was terrible like some of the doctors you heard about in your world. Did he tear people apart? Was he experimenting like the mad scientist in  Frankenstein? He puts on a nonchalant facade but you can tell just by the small growls in the night he’s starving. Trays are brought to you in three square meals which you refuse to eat until you’re set free and only a bit of scraps once a day if the attendants don’t forget are offered to the doctor above. You were instructed specifically not to share any of your meals with him for all the meals and scraps are recorded before going in and what’s left when coming out. Yet somehow you managed to tell them you wanted to keep the apple. Just in case. 

You scoop up the rotting fruit while carefully balancing on the flat surface of the dresser praying it doesn’t concave under your weight. Once you find your center you still barely touch the top of the bars even with the apple extended upon your fingertips. 

“Here, Jukin.” 

You watch as his foot gets slurped into the cage and out of your view. Seconds later one of his eerily long limbs comes down to meet you in he middle and easily slips his long arm and fingers into your sanctuary curling them around the morsel. You notice he has the same color stripes of black and white on his arm as the flooring. You can hear him taking small bites to savor each nourishment and he doesn’t thank you. The crude creature never does but you know he appreciates this small act of kindness despite the knuckle wrapping you’re sure you’ll get later. You dismount from the pedestal easing back into the carpeted cage floor stretching out your own limbs to keep the circulation flowing. You’d rather not have your muscles turn to jelly should your prediction of being here for awhile come to fruition. After a good half hour and the last joyous sounds of crispy bites subsides Jukin decides he has enough strength to chat.

“That thing was rotten you know.” 

“Only half of it,” you rebuttal. “I didn’t hear you complaining either. I bet you’re sucking on the seeds right now.” 

The creature crunches in response spewing the seed in the opposite corner of your confines. Then waves a second one outside the cage letting you know he’s about to pop the second one into his mouth. You roll your eyes. 

“You could have given it to me sooner before the rot set in, or perhaps even had the conviction not to take a heaping bite out of it to start the decomposition process.” 

“I would suffice a thank you. But if you must know I had a small moment of weakness.”

“Clearly.” Out come his toes as he wriggles them and assumes his natural position of laying back.

“I don’t know how you can stand being in something so small and not get the urge to move around.” 

“Focus is an easily accessible trait my dear and it all stems from being able to tap into that part of your brain in order to use it. If I think the pain away then it stays away.” You roll your eyes again rolling back into bed. 

“I’m going to sleep now so don’t be too loud when spitting the seeds out.” At this, it prompts the creature to poke his head out and down peering directly into your cage. You meet his half lidded gaze and watch the abnormally large lips of the frog-like creature speak. The tiers seem to be a pale pink and the only color on the being that has the height of a toddler yet its body is small and limbs long and slender. You can see the brown sphere firmly in the corner part of his mouth, teeth firmly grinding against the hard shell.

“If only this was a beetle.” He contrived before concerting to your request to quiet down in order to let you sleep. You shutter at the gross imagery and close your eyes slipping away from the confines of your cage and find freedom in your dreams.

——— . . . ------------

When you rouse the next morning you drift back to four days ago before the abduction replaying everything that transpired. Perhaps you were feeling sentimental when you opened your eyes this morning but as you rewind the tape you try not to create scenarios where you actually escape. You have to revisit the truth. Even if your brain wants to correct the story of what really happened. Even if it was ugly you have to revisit it. You steal the few moments you have before the attendants will walk into your room and set down a tray you wont touch, before Jukin rouses from his own dreamland and bothers you with morning ramblings. But your thoughts slip further back and you let it all play out on its own. 

.. .

Three years ago you still lived with your mother. It was five years since your dad had passed away and only two years after his passing that your mother moved on and married an arrogant prick. With this prick came an entitled pampered little princess that you were meant to call  stepsister  all thanks to the marriage that bound you to the asshole. Her own mother ran off and left her rotten daughter and disgusting husband behind as she fled somewhere out of state. Since then you’ve been wishing and praying that your eighteenth birthday will free you of this play happy pretend family torment and you can painfully detach from them and flee just like the sensible ex wife had. Last year you graduated and couldn’t move out of there fast enough, your mother was heart broken about the decision for you to dorm immediately at the college you studied so hard to get into since the entrance of dick one and dick two came into your life. Your own heart aches that you’re leaving her behind but if he makes her happy who were you to ruin that opportunity for someone you loved so dearly?

Enter four days ago when the father who never disciplined the now fourteen year old girl who had more gadgets and things stocked in her room than a Best Buy demands you bring her some weird Greek type of ice cream that’s mad expensive. You cant say no because if you do she’ll suddenly become a daddy’s girl and pout and cry until she got her way and it would just result in a terrible headache for you. You were there solely to visit your mother and had thought those two were going to be on an outing during the time it would take for you to get a good catchup in but found out they came back because one of their batteries died on the way and they forgot to bring the car charger. So you were stuck playing happy family until your  stepsister  cornered you when you escaped up to the bathroom and with half hooded eyes glued to her phone screen explained in a flat monotone way that if you didn’t get her ice cream then she was going to throw a fit. So you went. During this time your mother and her husband went to run to the grocery store when he decided it was going to be a good idea to have a cookout in celebration of your return. You wince as his stare lingers a little too long over you and that’s when you made a B-line to the bathroom in an attempt to right yourself. 

Luckily there was a quick corner store that you went to knowing your mother and the husband would go thirty minutes out of their way just to get these quality items and maybe knowing your mom just get a few things she needed grocery-wise while they were perchance there already.

You chuck the stupid item into the dual freezer slash fridge and trudge up the steps to inform her highness that you indeed got the snack she so rudely desired when you feel an odd tingling sensation against your skin. You have an overwhelming sensation that someone else is in the house besides the brat camped out upstairs in her room. It’s eerily quiet and normally in the past you know if it was just the two of you at home she would have her music blaring. Yet the absence of it now sends warning shocks throughout your body. It isn’t like her not to have on something even if she had it on a lower setting. So you silently stalk up to her room making sure you avoid the creaking wood under the carpeted stairs. You make your footfalls invisible and the door to her room is open just a sliver. You can see the vibrant overly saturated pink of her walks and bedding glaring at you from the fairy lights strewn around the edges of her cubic squared room. You don’t realize you’re on your hands and knees inching closer rather than on your feet like a normal unafraid human being but as you get closer you notice that her room is a mess. Not the typical teenager mess either, things disheveled and knocked over. She would never allow her precious stereo to have fallen and shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. This throws you to your feet and you call out her name. Frantically you shuck off the fact that there’s a potential intruder and curse the fact that you let that little girl dictate what you do. You should have been here to protect her. You should’ve stood your ground and told her no and just camp out in the living room. You were gone for five minutes. Maybe six since you literally timed yourself and that’s all it would take for someone to get in here and snatch a ninety pound girl up.

You scope the entire room for any sign she might be hiding or the intruder still being there and it’s blatantly easy to see the normally hidden spaces like the closet or under the bed have been shoved open and the covers from the bed thrown onto the ground. Then you feel it again. That same tingling sensation as before. You try to quiet your irregular panting and stay still so you can hear the sounds of creaking. But you only hear a high pitched whine of resistance of the door behind you as it closes slowly and gently. Someone is behind you. You turn your head as the back of the door reveals the figure that was hiding there. Lurking and waiting until you stupidly came in. But—-this isn’t a normal hooded figure in dark garbs or a human man. You’re confronted with a giant wolf-like creature waiting in the pit of the shadows of the room. The lights begin flickering and you can feel the air around you change. What was this? You take steps back and feel wind where this is no possible source for it to get in especially on this dry summer day. You take slow steps back and despite the utter fear seizing all your nerves causing you to shake uncontrollably you feel the instinct to protect that bratty teenager you’ve known for three years. 

You confront the thing. You demand to know where she is. You take in its appearance. It has a wolfs head and yet the eyes almost seem human with the brown hue gleaming in the fizzled lights shining above casting devious shadows. You look at the  plume of fur that disappears beneath a neatly pressed suit and matching black pants. The brown Oxford shoes are a blend of black and red complimenting his tie and is the only colorful thing on this monster. How can this thing be dressed like a human and walking on two legs? You look to the hands which remind you of werewolf hands. They aren’t condensed like a regular wolfs paw and yet it too is covered in silky strands of fur but then your eyes go to the black pearled daggers upon its fingertips and you gulp as they slickly gleam like the hide of a snakeskin under the florescent lights. Even the undershirt seems to be clad black with pearl buttons carefully buttoned. 

Like the scoop of a ravens wing those eerie claw-like fingers span in menacing formation outstretched ready to grab you in those terrible talons getting closer to you. Your only escape is a window that would take time to open and even then you’re looking at a three story jump which will result in broken bones, the door that the terrifying figure is occupying would surely result in your capture. But those are your two options unless you can somehow master the art of supernatural powers and phase through the figure to your freedom down the hallway. He lunges, you evade by scrambling onto the bed to create some distance in this small span of space and your eyes focus on the door. You spring from the other side but there’s a death lock on your ankle which causes you to fall short and you cushion your fall by landing face first into the toppled blankets pooled at the end of the bed. You wrench your leg trying to get away from the deep reverberating cackle of the monster knowing he’s got you.

The wind you felt earlier picks up and you fail to find the source of where its coming from. One of her headbands rolls across the floor, your eyes follow it as its sucked into the...closet? It’s definitely the source, you can feel the vacuum of what you can only rationalize is a portal? All the contents inside the closet jostle wildly as if its own personal hurricane is occurring in the walk in space. Even you can feel the pull from seven feet away. You have to get away, you’ve got to make sure the brat is safe, you have to call the police or...animal control to put this thing away far from you. 

You pull away and in the same motion the being is upon you, pinning you down as his massive lanky form hovers over you pressing your chest into the carpet suffocating the air from your lungs. It seizes your wrists and the only thing you can manage to move are your legs which you flail until you stub your toe on the metal base of the bed and cry out. It’s muzzle comes in closer contact with your ear causing further discomfort when the hot breath of the predator encases the entire side of your head. You’ve never heard a deeper timbered voice as the one gruffly growling against the shell of your ear.

“Caught you little rabbit.” The monster purrs sweetly into your ear making your skin absolutely crawl. Your instincts kick in and you need to get to that door, that’s your focal point and even if you lose a limb you have to get to it. It is your means of freedom. It all comes crumbling down when the monster easily lifts you to your feet wrenching your arms behind your back in an uncomfortable twist of pain that shoots down to your fingertips. You look to the window hoping your screams can reach past the streets to the close knit neighbors that are blissfully unaware of the supernatural predicament happening across the way. 

The portal like structure quivers and something in the pit hums as the wolf creature drags you over to the closet. Dread fills every fiber of your being and it is vital that these last few seconds you fight even if it costs you. You try to unknot your limbs in a natural way to regain them without the casualty of a broken arm but the being merely shifts tactics wrangling you in a different manner. A fistful of hair is all it takes for your compliance as it painfully resists being yanked out of your head. 

Entering a different dimension isn’t as painful as you anticipated. The movies got it wrong. It’s like going through a simple archway and stepping through the other side. And here you thought due to the force of the windstorm you were going to expect something terrible like the very atoms of your matter coming apart and re-stitching back together. Maybe you’d lose and eye coming out the other side. But you blink and its over. The ripples in the air subside until finally it dissipates altogether. 

——— . . . --------

And that’s how it happened. Soon after you were shut into this room and after the first day you watched as your abductor casually strolled in, perched in his favorite armchair and watched you for at least an hour before introducing himself. 

There’s a famous saying here that you’ve heard more than once from both the wolf and the doctor. 

_“I am Lucius. I am a monster as you well know. No I am not a lycanthrope or werewolf. Yes, I can alter my appearance to look human but I cannot maintain it for more than a day. We have rules and regulations here just as your realm does. And by all means should you feel the need to escape do so at your own risk. But outside of my manor are monsters and murderers just waiting to tear that beautiful flesh apart. You are certainly safer in here then you are out there. This cage is for my aesthetic as well as your protection from the hungry things that lurk outside the garden of my estate. You are mine now and I own you. Don’t worry about your sister I delivered her safely upon the orders of a high paying buyer. Just so we’re clear if you also feel the need to rescue her, just know she’s probably already dead. So. Now that that’s cleared up I bid you a good night.” He stands and you watch through bleary eyes as his distorted wobbly figure gets to the large wooden doors but he pauses and looks back at you and grins...yes wolfishly._

_“Oh, and welcome to the underground.”_


	2. Hostility

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

  
The doctor is humming a tune you’re not privy to. The air this morning seems light and you decide to probe Jukin for more information about things. 

“Why were you put away, and for that matter why are you being kept in the same confines as me?” His soft humming ceases while you watch as his cage swings slightly on its pendulum until out pops his head. He fits his arms around the outer bars letting his chin rest upon the back of his hands from the inside. His slender legs lock themselves on the other side of the cage as he peers down at you popping a seed he’s saved into his mouth.

“Little birds shouldn’t ask too many questions.” He adds in a stern yet airily way that doesn’t have a bite to his words. You merely lace your fingers over your stomach and smile up at him.

“I’m ignorant about my situation and about yours. I’m genuinely curious. Educate me.” You inflate his ego enough to know that his type are always eager to dissect even the simplest of things and once you get them talking, well, they lay out everything themselves. You resign yourself to keep your mouth shut while keenly absorbing anything he has to offer you. He props his cheek against his hand and chats away. 

You find out a few things about your companion that still warrant red flags but gradually that resolve melts away as he dazzles you with tales of the Underground. You still find it a horribly terrifying place when he gets into details about the monsters that live there and just what it is they do in order to run their kind of economy, but you allow him to prattle on while you mull it all over in your head. 

Jukin led a research team on how to develop safe travel from his world to yours. Once the team got rolling in picking up the lead where he left off developing his creations into new further and successful generations. He was stationed to move onto other things. His rise to fame resulted in a bigger pay and a more bright and shiny laboratory as well as his own building. He worked for the big wigs until he got in way too deep and quite literally began working for the underground. This meant the head of the divisions that were always in territory wars, killing over the sake of wealth, and branching out ones franchises and fractions. He was recruited for a private investor to crunch numbers on a new way to fill ones coffers and this involved the black market which uniquely profited in astoundingly large figures. This involved monster trafficking which eventually birthed the new idea when dealing with ones own kind was no longer enough. It branched into the simple seed of a thought that exotic things would not only line ones pockets with profits, but secure a luxurious life and it all stemmed from his employers idea to delve into human trafficking. 

Aside from the occasional humans that would happen to fall into the realm, it offered a possibility for one to escape. However, if one was to steal those who would not be missed, and sell them to the highest bidders, that would bring grand prosperity to ones city and territory. This also meant getting ones hands dirty which in turn resulted in internal conflicts of interest. Gang wars were often the main ingredient in keeping ones place upon their throne. Since then the head bosses kept their cards closer to their chests and began strict measures when hiring hands to do said dirty work. Even enlisting humans. 

Getting into a game like that was harder than you’d like to think and during its infancy you understand that Jukin had fallen into it entirely by accident. He isn’t entirely blameless but you can’t help but shave off a small bit of empathy for the creature who was merely doing his job and trying to rise through the ranks in a dignified manner. But with fame comes temptation and it just so happened he caught the eye of a greedy investor who wanted like the others, more than this life could offer. 

So as for his betrayal to his employers, he would do minuet things at first like throwing a small wrench in ones plans. He would redraw schematics, hide blueprints, forget to place a particular bolt upon the machine that would easily allow the thugs to pass through to the human world unseen and easily. The weight bore down on the amphibian and as the pressure increased to the others knowing about his sabotage he quite literally set fire to his lab and watched it burn, waiting to be taken away. 

He didn’t agree with the way the monsters exploited his work and stole others away from their lives. In all reality its comes down to the simple fact that because of his invention, you are virtually here because of him. Your fingers grasp at the collar of your sweater and he notices your tension. 

“I am sorry little bird. I am a scientist, not a fortune teller. But I suppose its the same in your world, just hidden better from the public’s eyes. One tries to do good for humanity, but there will always be one corrupt person that infects another. It trickles like poison into the hierarchy and the masses don’t bother to question these things because the officials go on television and smile and tell you ‘all is fine’. Had I known my creations would be used for evil I would have never began drumming up the foolhardy ideas I had.”

“There a lot of things we’ll never know I suppose.” You shrug nonchalantly. You were never one to understand the formation of politics. There was always more questions than answers in that department. At least he regrets the things he was subjected to doing. 

Before he falls asleep for an afternoon doze he tells you he’s been sentenced to life in a cell but the icing on top of the cake is the bribed jury and judge are trying to scrape up as many charges as they can so that he may never qualify seeing the light of day again. This is just a mini vacation before he’s forgotten in a musty cellar somewhere. The wolf is trusted by Jukins ex employer and therefore was fit with the task of keeping him under lock and key until the official sentencing. 

You chew on this information. This race of so called  monsters  seems far more cruel and animalistic than your kind. In this world it seems there are only two types of creatures roaming about. The lions and the wolves. The rest are livestock. He assured you not all the factions are like this, but no matter what alley you turn down, there mind as well be a flourish of spies waiting to rat you out to the figureheads to gain an upgrade of comfortable living than the the squalor they reside in now. 

Even as you make a plan to escape, you’re drumming up schemes involving a multitude of risks. You’d be going at this blind. The window outside of your cage offered you a view to that said garden he boasted about, and yet all the other crap could just be their way of scare tactics. Ah, another epiphany. What if your fiendish friend is really a plant meant to keep you here. But why would he torture himself and take the risk of being starved just to butter you up? You’ve had some crazy theories in your day but being in a pressured situation like this tends to make you a bit paranoid. 

The door cracks open with a heavy sigh as your  master  strolls on in with a long graceful gait before taking his place in the infamous red fabric chair. You make a roll to your stomach eyeing him with a sharp glare and a good old fashioned mean scowl. 

“Not happy to see me my pet?” What an oxymoron if you ever heard one! 

“What do you want?” You spit back dryly as the edges of his furry muzzled mouth twitches upon both ends but not quite taking shape into his signature grin. 

“Now, now  pet,  is that any way to treat your master?” Oh if only you could literally bite the hand that feeds you. You decide to stand your ground meeting him in the middle by shuffling to the very edge of the cage wrapping your fingers around the bars. You can cruelly fit a good chunk of your shoulder through one of the slots, however if you even attempted to fit your skull in next you’d come away with a terrible headache and mild abrasion. So you settle by plunking your forehead against one of the trunk of the bars glaring out at him. Your freedom two arms length away. The chain of the key is in with his pocket watch on his outer pin striped vest. It winks at you each catch of firelight mocking you. 

Now during your little talks Jukin has provided you with something powerful. Names are just so, especially in this world, and the force behind uttering just even a syllable can send even the most ugly bastard running. You’ve been banking it in your vault, eager to use it, especially now to wipe off that smug expression off his fucking face. You need to steel your nerves, you ground yourself by increasing the pressure of your hold on the cage and take a deep breath in. You’ve planned this in your head a thousand times. You’ll keep your tone calm and nonchalant. 

“I wonder what the Gaster brothers would have to say about that?” 

——— . . . ------

Here we go, rewind. Your second day here Jukin asked you if you knew who the Gaster brothers were, to which you naturally replied  you have no fucking clue what he’s talking about  , so he educates you: “The brothers may be your only saving grace. Like I said, not all of us are bad. Some fight against the demons. Don’t get me wrong I’m not saying they’re saints or anything, they sure as hell have blood on their hands but—-they do have a tiny ounce of compassion in those bones.” Oh yeah—-he then mentioned they’re fucking skeletons! How can something dead, live? Stupidly you inquire  like zombies?  To which he dryly answers: ”No little bird, you watch odd television. There is no such things as those.” 

Oh but creatures like talking wolves that walk upright, small scientist amphibian frog things, and live skeletons isn’t out of the  silly  range. 

He went on to explain to you about their involvement in the Underground and you fail to see the mercies in the way they behave. 

——— . . . -----

You watch his face fall sullen. You take a slow warm gulp making sure its invisible to his keen ears. You watch his burning yellow eyes almost flash a dull luster, something you haven’t seen before. The mere mention of the name offers a greater impact than you initially thought. His ears pin flat to his head for a few seconds before they return proudly to their erect positions. Anger eclipses all his emotions and he rises from his seat. For once you’re actually glad you’re locked up in a giant bird cage as he closes the gap advancing your way. 

“Did Jukin tell you about this?” There’s definitely something seeping in the volcanic ash of his throat. Something alive and burning threatening to erupt. You take two retreating steps back and he substitutes his own hands around the bars, but the tension in the tendons of his hands are much tighter and far more strangled looking than yours just were. You didn’t intend to rat him out. You cross your arms in defiance not allowing your glare to waver.

“No. It seems to be a common name your staff like to idly chatter about when delivering my meals.” You can see a few of his bottom teeth protruding from the sheath of his lip. Now there is a literal growl in his voice. The deep reverberations shake your sanctuary. 

You regard one another a few more moments and then he scoffs. His smug ire is back to normal and he’s done speaking with you for the night. “You don’t know shit.” You approach the front once again watching as you stunt his graceful gait by yet again opening your mouth.

“I know they have a foothold on your business. I know that its only a matter of time before they crush your empire and you fall from grace.” He turns sharply on his heel already yanking on the key in his breast pocket. He jams it into the lock sending you scrambling back. You go to the opposite side where the window overlooking the garden is creating space between the pair of you. 

But it matters not, he’s already got his long willowy fingers wrapped like a steel trap around your throat, the dagger claws biting into your skin but not enough to break it. You gasp as he thrusts you against the bars at your back and you claw at his wrist. 

“Don’t!” You barely get that word out while you save what little air you have left in your lungs. You whine softly as he looks you over with amber slitted eyes as he tells you once, and only once.

“It is not wise to test my patience,  pet. ” The acidity in his threat makes every fiber of your being crawl and your bones grow cold. Maybe it was just a tad too soon to try and provoke this thing. Especially when you’ve been naive in thinking he wouldn’t hurt you. Not after he so carefully planned your abduction and brought you back to his world. What would be next? Jukin has poisonous spit? 

His grip loosens a moment later and the balls of your feet land back down on the solid floor of your cage. Then his thumb gingerly grazes your bottom lip drawing the tiers open while his hungry gaze lingers there as well. He drolls absentmindedly almost in a trance as he expresses to you to never say that name again. You agree but only so he’ll leave. He leaves you rattled and cowering in the corner as he locks you back in and exits. That’s when you hear a heavy sigh above your head.

“I told you that in confidence. You can see the effect it has on him. Do try to live as long as you can, wisely, little bird.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments, discussions? The chapter picks up after this! You can express your love by going to my bio and finding my tumblr there if you’d like x3 
> 
> So just a few key things: I drew the wolf and what I visualize him to look like: http://fav.me/de0w3op
> 
> and for some reason I just envision Alan Rickmans voice for our level headed scientist. Anyway hope you like this chapter and be on the lookout for the next one!


	3. Jukins plan

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

“Mind you this is a shot in the dark my dear little bird but if successful, we both get what we wish.” Your fingers absentmindedly rub at the purple blooms around your neck still tender from the week before. Since then the spark inside you began to catch fire and you wanted nothing more than to escape the Underground and get back to the surface. 

“I won’t have to go through any tests or trials will I?” You mutter lowly, just enough so, that Jukin picks up on it, pausing his planning. He’s gone over it a thousand times with you and yet he still insists on going over it each second of the day again and again until your mind feels like it might turn to mush. 

“I already told you, had you fallen into this world by accident that would have been a very real possibility. However you fell in the darker side of the Underground where anything goes and the shadows rule here. Now please pay attention for there is a lot to go-“ 

“Jukin.” You sigh exasperated. You roll out of your nest and pace about the floor in maddening circles. You have a better understanding of what cage madness entails and suddenly you feel bad for the animals in the zoos back in your world. Should you ever get free of this one you might just sneak in and set them all free. The confined space grows smaller each day for you and you don’t mean to take it out on your companion but- must he go over it  again?! 

You splay your arms out in annoyance taking a second to glance up at his jaded eyes watching you succumb to your own darkness in your head and casts you a pitying expression. There’s a small sliver inside you that resents him for this. 

“I can recite the plan backwards and forwards. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“If you mess up just once-“ he chides and you cut him off before he can finish the rest of his sentence.

“I wont.” Your words must have some conviction to them because he eases backslightly but still you can sense the tension in his thin shoulders remains. Your voice softens as you uncurl your clenched fists at your side. You can feel all the tension in your arms drain and dissolve into the floor. “ Sorry.”  You mutter under your breath giving him a quick apologetic shrug of your shoulders while gazing up at him through your lashes. 

He withdraws from view back into the confines of his own prison but offers you a light wave of his wrist outside the bars. “It’s a stressful plan. One that is indeed fragile. Not to mention I’m putting all that weight onto your shoulders. I suppose I would have the same temperament as yourself little bird.  If  our positions were switched.”

The rest of the night stays like a thick fog inside your mind not allowing the faintest trace of sleep to come through like a fresh beacon of light amidst the chaos scrambling through your brain right now. Your thoughts turn back to betrayal. It is very likely that Jukin is using you. As he said, you go through with the whole thing and he sacrifices you to gain his own freedom. Maybe he’s still a plant put here to deceive you. Perhaps while you sleep he has  little birds  of his own that swoop in taking all the information they can back to the Wolf’s ears. 

The pair of them laughing behind your back. Maybe—-you shake the thoughts away. No more fantasies. No more what ifs. You need to concentrate. Plan the scenarios. Plan for the unexpected. Prepare for things to go awry. 

Jukin has laid out his plans very carefully. He’s molded the skeletal structure of this mansion inside your mind, the layout of the rooms, what door leads where, how to solve the labyrinth, how to find freedom outside of the gates. You wont need to move blindly. You feel pride swell inside your chest as well as a faint fluttering inside your stomach as you think of just that word alone. Freedom. It has a whole new meaning to you. 

Something cold shocks you as you think about leaving your step sister behind. Guilt writhes in your stomach painfully cramping against your muscles. One thing at a time you remind yourself and somehow sleep takes you to a place where all that melts away.

——— . . . -----

Adrenaline has been invading your senses the entirety of the day as you wait for night to fall. You anxiously pace about the expanse of your cage driving even the doctor mad. 

“Little bird you’re going to get tired before we even have a chance to execute this.” 

“I don’t think I can eat Jukin. My stomach is in knots.”

“Indeed I bet it is. But you must allow yourself to be calm or this is all for not.” 

He’s right. Now isn’t the time to have a panic attack. Now is not the time to think of everything that could go wrong. You stop abruptly when your unexpected visitor calls upon you. He takes his seat threading those long fingers-like claws that were wrapped around your throat and stares above the crest of his hands. 

You can feel your hands forming into fists. You turn your back to him afraid that he might see you cry. You can feel the warm jewels in the corner of your eyes threatening to spill over. You honestly didn’t think he frightened you that much but after the display of strength he made against you, you felt like a piece of straw under the crushing warm weight of those paws. You distract yourself escaping as far away as you could into your mind.

“Jukin. It seems your trial is a success. You will be sent to another district to rot in the pits of the Underground until you dry up into a withered husk.” 

You whirl around on your heel. No—-this cant be happening, not right now. Not when you’re so close! Your eyes widen as you take in the shocked expression of the doctor and just as though it was a cue for the others to enter, two hybrid creepy looking goons stroll in with a small box. 

Everything shatters. You can feel it cutting your skin as it leaves your fingers in broken shard pieces falling into this never ending miserable hell of yours. The Wolf is calm, almost dawning a triumphant grin as the little chain holding his cage suspended in air is picked up and the slack released. He descends floating down holding the bars. For the first time you see him whole. He is small, striped like the tile flooring, like a lion fish. 

You reach your hand through the bars hoping to stage something but its mere inches from the tips of your fingers. 

“Jukin!” You cry out. This is your fault. This is the punishment you get for defying the Wolf. Everything turns against you including the adrenaline in your body. You feel very tired all of a sudden and you keep yourself upright by clinging to your bars. 

It’s going to be like this. Always.  All your hopes dashed away by those damned claws of his. You would have been alright by yourself. But you’ve become too attached to your friend. He was the only thing you had left and now he’s being taken from you.

“It’s alright little bird. I accepted this fate a long time ago.” It’s selfish of you to think of the plan being spoiled. You should be concerned about the death sentence of your friend as he staggers on his hands and knees out of his cage. No strength to stand with the dignity of an accomplished scientist. The goons get him to his feet, but his long limps droop like wilted heads of flowers too sodden from the heaviness of rain to stay erect. 

“I do hope you enjoyed my home. It will be a shame that you will miss out on the chance to see me break the,” His lips curl into a disguised sneer, his tongue rakes over a sharp canine as he fills the words with acid even you flinch when he spits. “ Little bird.” 

The burning in your chest consumes you. You wish you could bend the Wolf the way he easily molds you to his whims. 

“Jukin...” The dysmorphic beings lunge Jukin into the tiny box, click the lock, and escort him out in the palm of their hands. You watch helplessly as your only ally disappears into the very shadows he’s warned you about. 

You turn your gaze to the Wolf who hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even to bid the doctor a farewell. His ears are perched in sharp points atop his head as he watches your every reaction. You grit your teeth wanting to bare your own fangs at the smug bastard staring at you with black pitted eyes.

The ethereal Godlike gold eclipsed by the hubris of his sin wearing it like a badge of honor in the form of pride dancing triumphantly in the dark waters of his eyes. A shapeless monster that looks ready to devour you. Yet you stand your ground. You refuse to give in especially when the raw feeling of losing Jukin is still humming inside your veins. 

“How could you.” Your words drip with anger and loss. Yet you inject all the venom you can muster into them. 

“You knew it was only a matter of time before this happened.” He inspects one of the sharp talons on his forefinger turning it this way and that as the black sheen glints off the firelight. Weapons always at his ready. You in turn look at your own crescent white banks of your own feeling like a declawed feline. You have no chance of overpowering a being like him. 

“Whatever. It’s not money out of my pocket.” You scoff back. He stills and his eyes train back onto you. Like a predator inspecting it’s prey from the safety of its perch high in a tree. You do however have the advantage of cover in this odd little scenario you’ve cooped up.

Judging by the half mass of his ears you’re theory is correct. The doc would be so proud of your hypothesis. So he dipped his hands in the lining of his velvet pockets to speed up the process. Perhaps it was also out of envy. This is his mansion after all. He could very easily have been listening at the door as you and the doctor made a connection that he will never possess. 

You decide to keep following this damaging thread of yours knowing the end will result in something bad. Yet you cant help but feel the defiance welling inside you like a burst dam. Not after he took Jukin from you. The only thing keeping you sane inside this wonderland of horrors. 

“So you did bribe your friends. How pitiful. It’s easy to have power in the form of wealth. It’s another to actually gain the respect of others through they’re actions. Like the doctor. You hide behind these walls never allowing to get those pretty little claws of yours dirty.” 

In one fluid motion he’s on his feet. The ends of his tail are bristled and he approaches your cage once more. You’ve had the worst of it. Or at least you thought. Those terrible things that tried creeping out of the shadows of your mind tried more than once to take hold of all your thoughts. There are much worse things than torture. And he did promise to Jukin that he would make good on his threats. 

How would he break you? We’re you more resilient than you gave yourself credit? In your mind, you doubt the flexibility of your will. In the unknown it can easily fracture. 

“I warned you once, I will not be so kind if you keep insisting on testing your limits.”

What do you have to lose? Your fingers ghost against the inside of your bars like a soft whisper as you touch each one closing the distance between you and your captor. 

“Tell me something. What made you come out of hiding and into the human world? You don’t seem the type to want to do tedious tasks like that.”

“It couldn’t be helped. I desired something there, and so I made sure others would not fail or disappoint me. And so I took it with my own two hands, unable to wait any longer.”

“ We  are not things to be stolen away by beasts like you.”

His claws snatch the collar of your shirt pinning you to the precipace of your cage. You lean against the tip of your toes making sure your movement doesn’t cause you to stub one on the heavy bar of the cage. 

“Your kind and my own have always been able to slip through the cracks and come into one another’s world one way or the other. Our side just so happened to perfect this method. You know this to be true given the stories you humans have made up over the centuries about us. Monsters in closets, wayward souls getting lost in the woods, terrible things in the night. We’ve always done this dance. The humans and the beasts.” 

You’re a mere few inches away from his muzzle. You can feel something strange. Your eyes follow the wrist of the Wolf becoming bare and naked to that of a humans. You snap your eyes back to the human face staring back at you. 

“We have always been among your kind. We’ve just mastered a way to use our masks better than you humans.” 

A gruffly, rugged man stands before you. With irises the shade of emeralds and gold locked in a swirling black hole around his pupils. His jaw is boxed and full of bearded dark hair. His thick brows match the untamed curled locks that lay fanned atop his shoulders, gold jewels bite into the soft flesh of his ears, while his skin seems tanned. He almost reminds you of the pirates in storybooks you’ve read as a child. Skin kissed by the sun and weathered from the wind. He’s still broad and his arms are as thick as the neck of a tree trunk. His claws have been replaced by sausage link fingers that match the strength of the bow of his arm. 

You stumble back out of his grasp. Maybe  once upon a time  you would pursue someone like this in your world—however this is just an illusion. A finely fitted  mask  just as he said. Beneath this rugged exterior is the Wolf named Lucious who you still despise. Yet you cant help but look to the peak of flesh exposed at the open bank of his shirt. You can feel a faint bead of sweat upon your brow as you once again seek solace in the corner of your cage shrinking into yourself. 

“Please leave...” The weight of the endeavors of the day weighing on you as you realize just how exhausted you really are. In the blink of an eye Lucious takes his true form. There’s another triumphant smirk as he turns to fulfill your wish.

As the heavy door closes you are alone with the crushing silence. There is no longer a cage suspended above your own. No nightly talks, no more of anything. You bury your head in your knees and sulk.

——— . . . -----

You think his ghost is haunting you. You vow you can hear him clear as day but know given the plush comfort beneath the weight of your palm, that you are in bed, and more than likely dreaming. But no—-things shift into focus. The endless burning of the fire is the only light you have in order to shift your focus from the silhouette sitting beside you to having it sharpen into prestige clarity. 

You practically spring up and shout with joy seeing your small friend sitting there. Now you must be going crazy and it hasn’t even been a day since his departure...he clasps a clammy hand to your lips and signals to keep your voice low.

“Time to make good on my promise little bird. We’re getting out of here.”

“But how did you escape?” You look him over making sure he hasn’t lost a limb or has any wounds that need tending. The plan would happen now? Now when you literally still have sleep and sand in your eyes? You weren’t prepared for this. Yet—-he takes your hand leading you through an open cage door. Your mouth gapes as you inspect it.

This is the first time you’re conscious and set foot outside your prison. He really is so much smaller than you. Truly the size of a toddler. You forget to bow your head since he easily goes through and you- bang your head against the corner of the opening. 

You hiss in anger feeling warmth gather in the bump pulsing against your temple. You grit your teeth hard that they feel like they could shatter. Jukin tuts you and rolls his eyes before deciding to openly chide you.

“Be more observant please.” You furiously try rubbing the hot bump down rolling your eyes at his comment. 

He guides you down the corridors with quiet large gaits. You find it hard to keep up with him forgetting that he might be small in stature but he still does have long legs. As expected, the Wolf spares no expense for his taste in aesthetics. Filigree railings that spiral into swirling patterns that bloom into leaflets. Gray and silver accents. It’s hard to tell the other things in the dimly lit halls. You’re more impressed with the railings and pillars than you are the things that fill up the empty spaces of each room. 

You decide to try again, whispering once you clear the mansion and enter the back garden. 

“How did you escape?”

“Easy. The half breed twits that caged me didn’t see the seed I stuffed into the hole of the lock. Our host was so busy reveling in his win that I knew his attention wouldn’t be on me. And honestly, it is very easy to mimic a lock clicking sound.” You smile at his cleverness. 

“Those things...why did they look more like...twisted monsters than...what the Wolf looks like? You know, all kept, trimmed, suave. Those just look—-inbred.” He chuckles quietly and you share in with a soft giggle as the pair of you wind through a maze you would never have figured out without his aid.

“Some creatures are made in labs. They’re easier to control. If you have brutes walking around with actual brains then there would be endless bloodshed. But if you remove that piece of brain that gives one a conscience then—-well you have a loyal soldier. I believe your kind call them...werewolves.” You shudder at the thought. 

Could that have been the Wolf’s last resort for you? A simple procedure to just take your free will from a small tissue sample from your brain? You think of the barbaric lobotomy procedures done on mental patients in your world and feel a sickly knot rise in the pit of your stomach.

“Wait.” He whispers harshly, the thought already has you on edge and when he abruptly stops ordering you to do the same you practically jump out of your skin after scaring yourself. 

“Speak of the annoying devils. We’ll have to go around. There’s no way we can push past them.” You see the two brutes from before stationed at the gate. Another freaking structure like your prison banning you from the thing you want the most. 

Before you can reconvene and come up with an alternative the weight of your body betrays you when you take a step back to hide and the heel of your foot snaps a twig. Both the guards stand in attention following the noise.

“Blast!” Jukin hisses under his breath looking at your round wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t worry about that now little bird. You head straight for those gates.” The implication dawns on you and you go to protest but he seems to know what you’re going to say in your hesitancy. 

“We don’t have time to squabble about heroics and whom can save whom. I promised you freedom and I make good on my bargains. Besides—-in all the evil that I’ve participated in this is one atonement I intend to follow through with. Go straight through the woods like I told you. My old lab is on the edge of the city. You don’t even have to input coordinates just turn it on and go through. It should have enough juice left for just one transport.” You go to protest again but he shoves you. You’re surprised that the little thing has such a strong push. You stumble back and you go to reach for his hand but he’s already running at the guards as a distraction. 

You blindly run towards the gates knowing one of the guards has spotted you, Jukin is using all his strength to keep the pair in a tangle of his limbs that seem to magically extend in front of your blurry vision. You climb the gate catching your arm on one of the spades at the top but otherwise land with a thud on the other side of the path. 

The lights snap on one by one while chaotic shouting is taking place within the mansion. You steal one last glance at Jukin who offers you a kind smile and a simple nod before the massive body of one of the hybrids eclipses your view of him and you turn to the woods running as fast as your feet can carry you.

——— . . . -----

The outskirts of the city seem abandoned. There’s always the chance of stragglers that could possibly be desperate to survive. So you need to be quick about getting inside to the lab. You use the light of the moon to navigate the halls until you come to the fourth floor. The last door at the end of the hall. 

The air is stale, the dust is thick, and the machines to operate the so called portal all look terribly obsolete. Jukin said it was one of his first prototypes so the levers and buttons to operate it are far simpler than the development of the newer ones. You wish he was here. Wish he could come with you and live happily in your world. 

As your finger hovers over a large blue button he told you to press to overwrite the down system and bring everything back online you are struck with a thought. It floats to your mind like a warm seed of a dandelion dancing on the wind.  Jukin didn’t betray you.  You remember what he said. There’s no stopping now. The noose around your neck will only get tighter and the beasts cant be far behind you.

This is your only chance to escape the Wolf for good and you need to take it. Otherwise you’ll never see the light of day again. You mind as well have a place beside your friend who sacrificed himself so you could be here. 

You slam your finger down on the button listening to wheezing whirring machines moan back to life. The lights flicker on but buzz in annoyance that the power is sucking their source dry. Then you hear the faint sound of popping. Like a heater coming to life in a clicking manner. You glance to see the round archway of a huge hoop just sitting in the middle of the room with rusty tubing and wires perched on a platform. The portal. 

You look at the motherboard scanning everything and trying to remember the basics.

You won’t need to input any destination because that would just overload the system to try and pinpoint a specific spot. Just turn it on, go through, and once you’re back in your world just use that brilliant brain of yours to figure out how to get back to your home. At least you’ll be safe back in your world.  Safe. If only Jukin knew about the dangers in your world too. You scrape away caked on dirt obscuring a little screen that’s flickering with a percentage. The machine is taking a long time to connect to the other side. 

It’s like waiting for your freaking phone or laptop to update. You might not have time to wait for this thing to become operational. And you don’t. You can hear the clattering on the floors below you. They’re here. Panic seeps in and you begin moving faster. You’re not a scientist, you don’t know how to transfer power to other outlets. The best you could do was charge your phone! There’s so many rogue cables scattered about the floor you are constantly being mindful to step over the fat bodies of the humming pipelines. 

There’s more shouting. Seventy percent. It’s been stuck on there for three minutes. At least the battery operated clock on the wall still works. You know machines need to be able to do their own thing, but you wish it’d fucking go faster. You will it in your head to do so.

You can feel the heavy footfalls of the guard beneath your feet. They’re just a floor below you. Soon they’ll be able to pinpoint where you are based off the lights and the noises the fossil like machines are producing. Eighty eight. 

The stairs bring them closer. Eighty nine. The door swings open down the hall. Ninety. There’s shouting. Ninety.  (Y/N) is down the hall, that way!  Ninety one. Loud herded running. Ninety two. The entire hallway is lit so they open each door. Ninety three. There are seven doors on each side of this hall. Ninety four. Fourteen doors in total. They are on the twelfth. Ninety five. Objects being tossed in other rooms make you flinch. Ninety six. You peel your eyes away from the circuit board and to the portal which is faintly and barely glowing the blue you remember seeing in your step sisters closet. Ninety seven. Will this hurt and make you lose a limb? Ninety eight. If you get caught again, will you become pregnant? Ninety nine. The soldiers have found you and easily push past your barricade you set up at the entrance of the door. 

One hundred. You can feel the malice of the soldiers fill the empty spaces of the room. The portal doesn’t look like it can function at all. There isn’t a strong blue aura like before. Jukin told you it was his first prototype. You hope your faith in him will pay off. Time slows. You can feel the strangers arms reaching out to claw at your arms and drag you back to the Wolfs mansion where you will be locked forever away like Rapunzel in her tower.

You take a page from Jukins book and run with large lunging steps towards the ring. On your way you smack the red button sitting on the side of the circular transporter causing it to blink a faint lazy blue eye at you. You don’t care where it will spit you out. You don’t care where you will end up, anywhere is better than here. And you fall through.

——— . . . -----

Everything is blurry. There’s something wet and heavy on your eyelashes. Your feet feel sluggish but that’s just the drag from the snow pulling at your knees. Your teeth chatter as you hug yourself for warmth. You didn’t care where you ended up, but you forgot that seasons can change here. Of course getting out wouldn’t be easy. You leave crimson in your wake as you trudge on in unfamiliar thickets of the woods. The cut from the spade on your arms and leg have left nasty gashes as parting gifts for you.

You go as far as your feet can take you before all the warmth drains from your body and becomes replaced with icy cold breath. You collapse in the gentle falling snow watching as it falls in silent lumps against your skin. It’s twilight here, still light, but no hope for life. Everything is gray and white. 

You forget what you’re wearing. You barely remember its a shirt and shorts. Back in the Underground it was summer. It was hot, it was stuffy and irritating and hard to breathe. Here its cold, and wrong, and you only have what you worked so hard to get for a mere few minutes before you close your eyes and say your goodbyes to those you want to see—-one more time.

—— \- . . . -----

A very tall, and very scarred skeleton strides to his mailbox. He thumbs through organizing the letters by name clumping them together and setting them into his arm. He still has todays suit on after just arriving home. He’s very tired, temperamental, and just wants to eat and sleep but knows he’s going to have to answer to his brothers before he can successfully get to his room.

Sometimes he just wishes this odd ritual of relaying his day and why he was so late wouldn’t be abided by. All he needs to do is just say so and it will be. Yet he has a soft spot for those idiots and so he entertains their whimsy by indulging them with his dull tales.

The purple inside the unabandoned socket rolls to the far vacant corner as he spots a bloom of crimson dyed in the pure white snow. He thinks perhaps an animal has succumbed to its injuries, but then he sees the hidden shapes under the cover of snow and he realizes that perhaps there’s a trespasser roaming about his woods. 

The skeleton abandons the mail setting it protectively in the box away from perspiration while he follows these very small but familiar tracks deeper and deeper into the woods. One would not see the petals of blood in the snow had they not thought to look at the vast expanse of ones wood line. The patches of blood grow thicker and less dark, more freshly crimson. The older skeleton knows he will soon come upon the source of this wound and his eye decides it cannot wait to erase the gap by looking ahead to see if he can find said source.

He comes upon a collapsed figure barely breathing by the rise and fall of her chest and staggering labored wheezing. Either pneumonia or hypothermia could take her, especially given the off purple color threatening to turn black on her fingers and toes. He looks at the terrible choice in clothing and then scans the wound with his one good eye before looking back at the path he’d taken.

It would be easy to go home. To delete this incident from his mind and avoid being bombarded with endless questions. But then it could just be murder. He’s done worse. The purple burning glow rolls back to the small form laying there on the brink of death. Just a kiss away from departing from this world and ascending to a higher plain. 

Just a passing thought he remarks before bending the knee to scoop the small being into his arms. She really does have poor taste in dressing especially since its the dead of winter. However, curiosity tugs at the intellectual part of his brain and he wonders why she would choose to expose herself to the elements. Perhaps she was running from something. Perfect, just what he needs...a complication. He looks over the girl once more and then up to the warm glowing lights in the window awaiting for his arrival. He really will need to tend to those wounds first and then drag out his best heavy weighted blanket for her.

He passes his mailbox and quickly thinks back to ten minutes ago when he was leisurely getting his mail without a care in the world and tasked with the simple mission of eating and getting to his bed. And now here he was carrying a foolish human up the steps, to the porch, and rapping the sharply strong bone of his knuckles against his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys this chpt is a little long but it’s filled with coolio stuff and we get to the meat of the story! As always let me know if you liked it! You can find links to the social media pages on my profile. Whoop hope you guys are still enjoying your ride


	4. Of Monsters & Women

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

Your head really hurts. Like, pounding against your skull with an all around migraine aching hurt. The last time you fell asleep you were in a blanket of snow that actually felt nice and warm for a brief moment and then you felt your body growing cold. You must have been hallucinating because you could have sworn right before you blacked out you saw a giant lanky skeleton lumbering towards you. For a brief second you think you might even be dead and here death was in all of his pressed gentleman suit glory coming to take you. Or quite possibly in limbo because if you really were dead, wouldn’t you not feel pain? Your head aches, so do your teeth, heck even your limbs and muscles need a good stretch. But then how could you not be in limbo because random skeletons popping in from the woods just doesn’t happen in your world. Did you somehow come out from the other side to just a different part of the Underground?

That startles you the most. Your body isn’t fully recuperated and the mere thought sends waves of panic throughout your body and you succumb to darkness again. 

———————— . . . ———————

Something sounds muffled. Like you’re submerged underwater and everything is garbled. You swear you hear voices. You can see shadows and shapes but the place around you seems dim and dark. There are three spectral’s hovering over you. Yes, you really did die and for some reason karma thinks you need to be haunted too. Great. It’s too much work to open your eyes fully so you can only squint and barely make out the masses through your lashes. One of them seems to mutter, commenting about you being awake and to keep the others voice to a dull roar. 

You wish desperately your lips weren’t parched and cracked, stinging any time you go to form syllables. If that wasn’t enough you can feel the gritty hoarse grating in your throat and none of the words can push past the bramble of thorns knotted in your windpipe that wouldn’t not result with you having a coughing fit . 

All you want to do is make your fatigued body burrow deeper into your cocoon of soft warmth and tell whoever is arguing next to you to go somewhere else. There’s still a possibility you’re imagining all this and are still being buried and solidified in the snow slowly dying having a taste of a preview for what is to come.

You could care less. Heavy blessed sleep keeps wrapping its sweet arms around you and wherever you are, at least you’re far away from Lucious. 

———————— . . . ————————

The large lanky one is not with the other two at this moment. He did however, explain to the others that they are  not to disturb you or enter the room he set you down in that evening. And yet, following orders was never the others strong-suite. 

It mainly started the night before when the taller skeleton with the purple eye strolled in carrying a very cold and very limp body of a woman. While the other two skeletons related to the lanky one were having a debate about something in the kitchen when they were promptly snatched away from any other arguments once they laid eyes upon the strange sight.

Never had the lanky skeleton  ever  strolled through the door with a human in his arms. Nor were any allowed to step foot in this house either. They found it strange when he had knocked rather than simply let himself in. The louder and quite tall skeleton rose to open the door still carrying on the squabbling with the broader and shortest one calling back to him from the kitchen.

The lanky one said nothing. He just continued on with his task of ignoring the other two in order to avoid the questions that he knew he’d be bombarded with. After all, he just did want to get to bed sharply before ten. Heck, even nine, but the business that he conducted earlier in the day took too long and his hand was forced to become provoked after a meeting had gone wrong. He really was exhausted. 

So he walked with purpose once the door opened almost wishing he could have used the back sliding door to slink in from undetected, however, he would eventually have to explain why there was a human woman occupying a spare room and eating their food. 

And so the other two gape and gawk as he goes up the stairs, as predicted going on and on with questions, comments, and concerns, like a ducks ass. He rolls his single purple eye around in his socket and finally turns sharply to look at them being careful to keep you cradled comfortably in his arms. 

“ Enough ! You two are  not  to set foot in the spare bedroom.  Understood ?” The inflection of his tone is sharp and intimidating. Another useless tactic that was tested by the younger skeletons long, long ago and eventually passed over as a typical tone that can be ignored as a bark rather than a bite.

They are quiet—-for a moment before revving up and starting again like a push mower wheezing back to life. The lanky skeleton groans as he proceeds to get you upstairs. He can feel your body trembling terribly and he knows enough that humans have skin and this means they need warmth in lieu of the cold. 

He places you gingerly down on the bed making sure to turn it down so you fit snuggly under the layers of sheets and comforter before searching for the heavy weighted top cover and two nice and fuzzy ones for extra measure. He makes sure to place you exactly in the middle of the bed so you don’t accidentally roll off onto the hard floorboards. He spent a fortune getting the best oak, staining, and polish after all. 

He draws the blinds closed and strolls to the door where he adjusts the thermostat until the heater clicks on to warm up and then it filters through the vents in the corners of the room making you melt into the mattress. Your eyes have been closed the entire time and you barely registered what transpired, even as the door closes and more bickering ensues.

—————————- . . .—————————-

So now here you are trying to sleep and the two occupants of the house which were  warned  not to intrude in here, are babbling at your bedside. This time there’s no mistaking it. Yep. Two skeletons. One larger in berth and shorter compared to the tall loud one standing next to him. The shorter one with the gold sharp tooth is constantly cuffing the other on the shoulder and scolding him for being too loud. 

He really needs to not be shouting especially when your head is fuzzy and filled with static. At least its not pounding anymore. You recall the water on the nightstand next to the little decorative lamp and you’ve been nursing that anytime the parched stinging in your throat wakes you up. Always it was crisp and cold and refilled no matter how many times you managed to open your eyes.

You look back at the skeletons still having a hard time opening your lids completely. The small wide one seems to be smiling and has a sort of odd accent. Almost like your relatives from Brooklyn. The other however, seems to have a terrible time  not shouting. You used to have a friend like that. She was always just—-loud. 

You still have a strangling fear the doctors machine couldn’t produce enough power to generate getting you back to your world. Could you just have landed in a different sector? It’s possible...You didn’t have time to see if it loaded fully before the swarm of guards were on you. 

The thought of Lucious reanimates your body back to life and you startle flinging yourself into an upright position gasping for air. The most movement you’ve had in days. The two skeletons seem taken aback as they go silent watching you with wide eyes and exchange a glance of confusion as to what they should do.

This was a new development. They’ll want to tell the tall one immediately now that you seem mobile. The taller one is barking about something exactly like that and scrambling to get to the landline downstairs. The shorter one snags him by the crook of his—-you assume elbow bone. That’s a first. Skeletons wearing clothes. Your bottom lip gapes slightly as you roll to the other side of the bed away from yet again more monsters. 

The wider one puts his hands up, finger—-bones—-adorned with yet more gold against the stark contrast of the bleached white bones of his fingers. You snap back to the pair of red orbs hovering in the bleak black tired looking sockets. How is it even possible something like that can convey an expression? He’s still smiling though...

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Alright everybody calm down will ya’?”

“WHERE AM I?” You screech, unable to take another defeating blow. The wide one leans slightly forward causing you to spring into a defensive stance ready to jump out a window if need be. But the adrenaline barely keeps you on your feet, you’ve danced with death and the life needed to slowly rehabilitate back into your nerve endings is still working on circulating throughout your body. Your knees buckle, legs becoming noodles, and you collapse. 

The taller skeleton uses his length to get to you in time making sure you don’t hit the ground with your full weight. You instinctively pull away ready to make a barrage of weak fisted cracks to his sharp angled cheekbones. 

You would—-if you weren’t terrified of shredding the skin on your knuckles. 

“AND WINGDINGS THOUGHT SHE WOULDN’T BE A FIGHTER!” 

The crescendo of the tall ones voice is obnoxious and shrill yet it holds deep baritones. You use the last of your might to crawl to the furthest corner feeling your fingers graze over the grate of a heater. You scan it with your eyes. The warmth licks around your fingers in blessedly warm breaths. 

You groan internally wishing you could have slept just a little longer in your makeshift cavern. Wait...as your brain reboots that name springs into your head, the syllables familiar to your tongue. Your eyes widen and you look to the two skeletons blocking your only means of escape aside from the window to your far right. The curtains are closed, even if you managed to get to the sill you weren’t sure if it was night or day and what floor you were on.

Aside from that fact, the skeletons didn’t make a move to restrain you or force you to...no. You needed to ask them...the two are occupied in more arguing that seems more playful than anything. The wider one scolding the taller one for shouting and then insulting him, while the taller one lowers his retort a decibel. 

“Are you...” The words scrape against your throat and hurt causing you to cough but you have to know...

Maybe there was more to Jukins first generation portal than he thought. Maybe it was capable of a greater capacity than he realized. Like, the will of your wish to be somewhere safe and in the hands of Lucious’s rivals. For a brief moment you had thought it possible. You had made a silent wish to just be...safe.

Both the skeletons snap their attention back to you staring at you baffled. You rub at your scratchy throat attempting to speak again. 

“Are you—-the Gaster brothers?” I mean its a shot in the dark, a one in a million chance that you’re luck really isn’t shitty—-but on the other hand how many living breathing skeletons did you know inhabited the Underground? 

Both suddenly seem speechless. Seriously? Now they’re quiet? They’ve been gabbing as far as your consciousness can remember and  now  they choose to be mute? Do they realize how fucking hard it was for you even to get that out of your throat? The smiley one answers.

“Yeah doll, that’s us. Seems our reputation has even reached da humans huh?”

You scowl. So does that really mean you’re back in your world? They didn’t regard you as a slave or captive. 

“Where...” You barely squeeze it out and you’re coughing. The tall one hands you the glass of water and you gratefully take it chugging the sharp icy contents down. 

They share another odd glance. And again the smiley one answers. 

“Well, I mean ya think you’d recognize your homeland doll.” He nonchalantly waves his hand in a dismissive manner. 

“PERHAPS SHE IS BLIND BROTHER!” You deadpan looking at the tall one. Seriously? If you were blind then you wouldn’t have grabbed the glass from him. The wide one rolls his red orbs around his bottomless sockets. 

Relief floods through you. You’re back in your world! But how long has it been? It felt like only a couple of weeks. It was summer when you braved saving your step sister in her room and now its winter, everything is slate gray and blanketed in snow. How could you black out on time? The survival part of your brain knocks against your skull reminding you of the other things Jukin told you about these brothers. 

_Be wary little bird. Despite them being your saving grace it could also be your undoing. The brothers are unpredictable pillars that can turn on their emotions like a two sided coin. Be cautious with them because you never know which side you’re going to get_. 

You sit there as a puddle of yourself melting into nothing but nerves and fear. The weight of your companions words settling around you like thick smog. First of all, and not that it matters since they don’t have muscles or mass and probably bank on bone density, they are first and foremost males. You a helpless barely functioning human female. Secondly, they more than likely have powers they rely on. You have fists that couldn’t slap a fly to the floor in this state. 

Next, they are monsters, possibly the evilest kind and you are stuck in the same room with two of them who seem nice but you can juuuuuuust visualize that nice and naughty coin spinning cruelly not giving you the slightest hint of what side it will roll to. So you gulp, hard, and you look to them realizing you are yet again in the same sort of situation you were before. Just in a nicer cage free room with a bed and cozy blankets and a heater. Even in the Underground it was summer there and now its winter here. So even if you did want to run yet again, you couldn’t because you  do  have skin and tissue and functioning organs that will yield you from going past the driveway thanks to the cold.

Then you look to your feet which are still a little purple but slowly getting blood flow and turning pink slowly the longer you allow them to sit atop the grate of the room and let the heat defrost your piggies. 

Being comfortable and letting your guard down is a mistake. You should have never put your hope in three monsters that aren’t guaranteed to be your salvation. But your choices are limited and your flightless brain is overriding your senses telling you that there are people in trouble. People that you’ve come to care for in your brief stay in the Underground. 

“It’s kinda strange that a human knows who we are. So tell me dolly, how did you come by our  names ?” You place your hand against your throat. You aren’t strong enough to hold a conversation but if you expect answers then you too yourself must be willing to answer their questions.

“I—was—-“ They both lean in slightly, the taller one is now sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed. You notice he too has scars streaked over his eyes, over his—-well where his brows  would be . And the wider one sitting in his designated spot behind the bed next to the door is still wearing a toothy grin. You cant help but think of Lucious. Perhaps he’s not exactly happy, but rather, that’s just the way he chooses to be. The smile is deceiving but the eyes cannot lie. 

He too is watching you and very closely. 

“I want to speak to the brother that saved me.” 

“He’s not here right now girly. Yer just gonna have’ ta put up with us for the time being toots.” You scowl at the pet names. Yet another similarity that Lucious was famous for doing. Honestly couldn’t monsters just call you by your regular name? You do own one of those after all. Not that you didn’t mind Jukin dubbing you  little bird . It felt like a tiny treasured stone in your hand that radiated warmth and familiarity.

“Please. It’s about Lucious. The wolf guy...”

Now this does make them obviously share a concerning glance. It melts away on the wider ones face and something else replaces his  expression . The rubies in his sockets are no longer glowing with a soft purring aura. Instead one seems to extinguish while the other begins pluming puffs of crimson smoke that billows from the cavernous top of his socket. It’s a bit unsettling. You never actually saw Lucious or any of the other monsters use magic before. The best you saw was the portal. 

Then you feel a terrible weight on your chest. It feels like someone flung a giant ass boulder in your lap and not even you can stomach to stand on your feet right now. Though the malice is not directed at you, instead the anger is meant for the name you dared to utter. Clearly Lucious and these skeletons really do have issues with one another, and at least you aren’t being pinned to the wall by your throat this time. Still—-its unsettling and terrible to be caught in the crossfires of a feud. 

“Papyrus. Call Wingdings immediately. He needs to be here.  _**Now**_. ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooooop so this chapter was super fun to crank out and we’re finally introduced to the infamous Gaster brothers in the next chapter! As always let me know if you like it, love it, hate it! And again my media links are posted on the bio!
> 
> ——— I now have a designated tumblr F0rce0fnatur3 —- !!!


	5. Monsters, Magic, & Mayhem

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

Adding to the problem really wasn’t your brightest idea. It was easier to just blurt out a demand to see the one that actually did save you, but now you’re stuck with three terribly grim looking skeletons all sitting in a semi circle around you at their dinner table, not to mention their house. This small piece of furniture in front of you is the only thing separating you from the glowering figures on the other side. Now that you’re able to compare them all against one another, each is more terrifying than the other. And the unsettling smiling one isn’t doing you any favors to make you feel at ease. 

There are battle scars on both of the tallest. You can only imagine how the pair earned them and the wider one seems to be the more cynical being among the other two. It’s a game of eenie meenie miney moe at this point and you decide to settle on Mr. Smiley just because he also seems the least threatening of the bunch. 

Jukins warning flashes into your head and you take a second to sip from the generously poured glass of water before conveying your plight to the masses. You hope you can appeal some type of sympathy but doubt it greatly. 

“My name is (y/n). I’ve-“ The one that saved you and seems to only have one amethyst eye ball thing, a slightly cracked skull, and the gnarliest scars cuts you off before you can even finish.

“Escaped from the Underground with the help of the former scientist known as Jukin.” Alright then—-obviously he did some snooping while you were out. So if they know you’re a fugitive then why are they even wasting time interrogating you? Well-you did want to have an audience with just—-the cranky one and instead got the pleasure of having the attention of the other two. 

“Yes,” you confirm. “I did.” 

“Question is how did ya get away from Lucious doll face?” You feel your brow tick. You curl your hands in your lap into fists trying to wrap your head around all this. 

“I had Jukin’s help with that. We came up with a plan and spent weeks going over it so he could map out how to get to his lab. I-“ Another interruption. The tall loud one actually seems to be keeping quiet which is surprising to you.

“Did someone bring you to the Underground?” Cranky one says tapping a sharp finger against the outer cuff of his folded arm.

“I was kidnapped by Lucious and brought there, yes. But-“

“FOR WHAT PURPOSE DID HE DO THAT TINY HUMAN? WERE YOU TO SERVE HIM?” The loud one. You flinch when he barks his question at you.

This is utterly ridiculous. You give them all a scowling dead pan look and now its your turn to cross your own arms. 

“Should I start at the beginning or are you three going to interrupt each answer I give you?” They take a second to look to one another unsure if they should be upset at your little outburst or impressed. The smiley one chuckles and his eyes seem to lighten. He genuinely seems amused. 

“Alright doll, go ahead and tell us all a’ bout it.” And you do. You relive the whole events leading up to your harrowing rescue of your step sister only to be led into a trap by the Wolf. You briefly gloss over the time spent being cooped up in your prison but divulge some of the knowledge Jukin offered you about the corrupt dealings in the shadier part of the cities. You pour your heart out. You hold nothing back. You explain how you came by their names and how you knew very little about the brothers repatriations personally, but still hoped against hope that there was  something  they could do. 

You tell them about the plot Jukin came up with. The sacrifice he made for you to give you a chance to make it back to the surface, and how he explained to you how one was to operate his portal in order to get you here. You try telling them in detail that you never input coordinates, basically you turned it on and jumped through worrying about where you landed once you got to the other side.

“No one knows about our location on the surface and you’re telling me that the doctor just so happened to have a working means of escape, and you just so happened to land quite literally in our backyard?” The amethyst orb turns into a deep violet as you shift uncomfortably in your chair watching the skeptical exchange of glances among the brothers. 

You can visualize the coin slowing, the blurring motion of the spinning weight teetering, and the face of the joker is winking at you with a cruel sharp toothed smile. You shrink in your seat. They’re talking amongst themselves. The longer they take to not acknowledge you the deeper into despair you plummet. The coin starting to fall to its side. You cant take it!

You shove away from your seat standing in one quick motion. Silence settles around you, you feel dizzy. Crap you shouldn’t have gotten up that quickly. You place your hand against the table propping yourself up by your hip for good measure. 

“You’re speaking like I’m a threat. As though I didn’t go through months of hell, barely escaping, and yeah it’s crazy coincidental that I happened to find you after praying and wishing so many times that I could at least land somewhere safe. If I’m a spy I must be a shitty one because I came dressed in summer clothing not knowing the surface was emerged in the dead of winter, and almost died by bleeding out in the snow. I’m hardly qualified to be a female fatale.” 

That’s right you didn’t make it here without injuries. You steal a glance to your forearm which has fresh bandages as your fingers glide to the one against your shin. 

“And if I really am a threat then why did you save me? You could have just let me perish out there in the snow since I don’t have equipment to use to rececitate me. You didn’t have to drag me inside to a nice warm room and bandage my cuts either. So what was that all about then?” 

The cranky one lets out a sigh before patting the smiley one on his shoulder and rising to his feet. He definitely towers over you but not so much so as the loud one does. Was he this tall in the woods? You stagger back as he takes a step forward and you close your eyes preparing to be eaten alive by those jaggedly marred jaws of his. You hear his footfalls behind you. Curious you look over your shoulder as he plucks an apple from a bowl and piles other things you cant see onto a plate.

“You seem too puny to be a spy dolly.” The smiley one says with a chuckle. Your cheeks heat slightly and you cross your arms defensively. 

“I’m telling you all the truth. I think Jukin miscalculated his portal thing. Maybe if the user really desires to be somewhere it takes them there?” 

“If that were true we’d have a shit ton of enemies at our door.” The cranky one remarks sliding a plate in your direction. You realize you really haven’t eaten that much since your escape or slept, so you take your seat gingerly testing the sensitivity of your chapped lips and teeth as you bite into the soft flesh of the apple. The scent instantly transporting you back to your memory of offering Jukin the rotten one you took a bite out of.

You abandon it for a baby carrot looking at the loud one as he boasts. 

“NYAH HA HA! IS IT NOT DELECTABLE TINY ONE?! OUR BROTHER BUYS ONLY THE BEST PRODUCE. PERSONALLY I’D RATHER HAVE YOU TRY MY DELICIOUS PLATE OF SPAGHETTI BUT WE CAN SAVE THAT FOR A DIFFERENT DAY!” 

You pause in your chewing to mull over the loud ones words. Firstly, you’ve never heard someone laugh like that. Only in like—-video games, and usually at the end where you fight the cheesy boss overlord. Second, why spaghetti? You’ve personally never found it terribly appealing. It is just noodles with red sauce. Thirdly, why is he always shouting? You really wanna know. Is it like a nervous tick?

You just offer a gracious light hearted smile to him before looking back to the cranky one whose resumed his position of crossed limbs and legs and the sharp tapping against his cufflink. 

“Brothers. May I speak to her alone for a moment?” The sharp toothed smiley one looks as though he’s actually scowling. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be in da livin’ room in more comfy chairs when you’re done here.” 

“DON’T TAKE TOO LONG BROTHER!I WANT A CHANCE TO ASK THE TINY HUMAN THINGS TOO!” 

“Maybe not today Paps. She’s still recuperating.” He sighs his reprimand while reaching into the inner lining of his jacket producing a thin white piece of paper harboring tobacco in the middle. You yourself don’t care for the taste or the smell so you never got hooked or found out why others were so addicted to the things because the first time you ever took a puff you almost coughed up a lung. His fingers  plink  against the glass tray ready to rummage past the square pocket for a zippo but he stops when he notices your forlorn expression before deciding against it. Even though he really wants to light one. Badly.

You’re still stuck on the whole—- tiny human  thing. Barely paying attention. You’re really not  that  tiny! Compared to all of them yeah...but that’s besides the point! They take their leave and now its just you and the cranky one. You finish half your plate being polite to chew with your mouth closed and as quietly as you possibly can. Feeling full you face him with your hands in your lap and your spine not hunched. You gotta work on your posture for the future you after all.

He takes a more leisure pose resting his elbow on the table and the side of his skull upon the back of his knuckles. He seems tired. 

“You are right. Had I thought you might be a spy I would have left you to freeze in the snow. I did think on it for a minute or two. I even thought about ignoring the tracks leading into the woods. But then I found it curious. How could a human stumble upon a house built without permits, built in secret and undetected, and end up in woods that are privately owned and marked off limits to your kind. How could she even possibly find her way through those same woods which are designed like a labyrinth and were chosen because of the complexity of the landscape and vast wilderness only to end up in the one spot she shouldn’t have found?”

“I—-I’m still not sure what I can tell you. I felt something in my heart before I went through the portal. Not to mention I wasn’t even sure it was going to work, Jukin told me the thing was old and probably wouldn’t. I was scared shitless, I had all those goons tracking me and I could feel them at my back before I vanished. But I sort of just made one final desperate wish. I know I was doing it blindly and I know you aren’t obligated to help a stranger, let alone a human who knows nothing about what you do and who you are. But I still just—-knew it was safer to find you than to go back home where I know Lucious is. And I wont blame you if you decide to send me on my way. But I’m begging you. Please...I don’t have a lot of money but I will pay you to rescue my step sister from the Underground. And then I’ll disappear so you don’t have to get dragged into my drama.” 

His finger taps against his cheekbone and he looks you over. Probably an impatient habit he’s developed due to withdrawals. 

“Things are already complicated. If I didn’t want to help, as I said, I would have left you to rot. But I don’t expect you to not earn your keep, or pay my brothers and I back in full. You are asking a lot from us.”

“I-I understand. I promise I will do my best to pay you back!”

“We’re already at war with others as well as Lucious, why not press his buttons and send another blow to his business while we’re at it.” He rises. You stand as well feeling weird like you should bow to him. It’s a pathetic slight bend on your part and you instantly regret how silly you feel doing it, but he’s already leaving the room and trudging up the stairs snarking to his brothers to keep it down because he’s going to bed.

What the hell do you do now?  Earn your keep?  Does that mean he was giving you permission to stay? Should you offer to call a cab and leave? You awkwardly shuffle your way to the den of the living room where both skeletons hush and look over at you. You feel sheepish just standing there not sure what to do or say...

“So doll face that went well for ya.”

“How so?”

“Well fer one thing, if Wings wanted ya ta leave he would’a kicked you out or just killed ya.” Oh good. So that apparently is what  went well  means. 

“YES TINY HUMAN! WELCOME TO THE GASTER HIDEOUT!” You look around. It’s actually a nice large rustic looking home rather than a hideaway. You imagine the term to be ramshackle and loose boarded up planks over the windows and doors with dusty curtains shutting out the light. 

“If you do your business in the Underground, why do you have a house in my world?”

“It’s complicated toots, but basically its a great means of invisibility. Ya see, most monsters think we reside somewhere in the Underground and have failed a long time to pinpoint our location.” He shrugs his broad shoulders. You rub your arm leaning against the doorway afraid of getting another dizzy spell like before. The food in your belly helps your energy a little but its not enough to clear the fog from your head yet. 

“I guess—-if I’m sort of in a technical way, paying you for your protection er—-help? Shouldn’t I get to know the names of my saviors?” 

The tall one puffs his chest up with pride and his voice booms extra sonic loud this time.

“NYEH HA HA HA! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! AND YOU SHALL REGARD ME AS SUCH TINY ONE!” You blink. Papyrus. Where have you heard that name before? 

“I’m Sans. Sans the skeleton doll face. And the cranky bastard ya chatted with is Wingdings. Don’t call him by Wings though. You can call dis one Boss.” 

Papyrus scowls at his brother and cranes out of his chair.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT BROTHER!” Usually his tone is airy and almost happy, its got an edge of irritation to it now...note to yourself he clearly doesn’t like that nickname so don’t use it.

Sans snickers and he chides Papyrus for being loud and reminding him that Wingdings told them to keep it down.What you’ve come to understand about these two involves more than just squabbling, its more about teasing and banter rather than seriousness. 

It hits you. You cant help yourself. Your lips perk into a quick smile and you have to cup your mouth to keep from laughing. 

Are they really named after fonts?! Not even that but the most used and original ones at that! You defeat your fit of giggles by reminding yourself its rude to laugh at the beings that did save your life. And you really are grateful you’re not stuck in a giant bird cage anymore. You stroke the bandage over your forearm.

“Which one of you patched me up?”

“PATCHED? NYEH HA HA! I THINK SHE’S HIT HER HEAD HARDER THAN WE THOUGHT BROTHER! NO ONE STITCHED YOU UP TINY HUMAN!” Ah...the dense goofball. Well—given Jukin told you each skeleton had a body count in the three digit figures you bat that idea away immediately. 

Sans rolls his eyes. 

“That would be Wings. He’s really good with that sorta stuff. Besides that I offered ta dress ya but I got shooed outta da room.” Your cheeks burn again. You don’t know what to say to that. The—perverted one? You’re really going to have to try and peg them down and give them nicknames. The way Jukin told it these brothers were humorless immortals that killed enemies without second thought and ruthlessly expanded their territory in the Underground. 

If they conquered so much then how come they haven’t tried to make a move in your world yet? They had the means to do so. Yet they resided here like it was a high class vacation home. Monsters truly are complicating. 

“So did Wings—-Wingdings! Erm—-um—-accept my plea to help me get my step sister back from Lucious?” 

“Eh, basically doll.” He shrugs again. This time its his turn to fish for a—cigar apparently chomping on the tip to hold it in place while he puffs it to plume. The thick wall of smoke hits your eyes making them water. The smoke isn’t iridescent or gray, it’s vermillion, a match to his eye color. You need it to be certain. You cant have vague notions about this, especially if you were truly overstaying your welcome. 

“Does he usually come through with his tasks?”

“ABSOLUTELY TINY ONE! OUR BIG BROTHER NEVER BACKS DOWN FROM A CHALLENGE! NOT EVEN THE MINUET ONES!” Now you really are dumbfounded.

“Oh—-I just thought that—-since you being the tallest one you Pap- the  great  Papyrus, were the oldest?” This causes both skeletons to burst out in laughter. You pout your bottom lip and puff out your cheeks feeling embarrassed, ready to be eaten by the ground. Annnnnny minute would be nice! 

“Nah doll! Wings is the oldest, I’m the middle, and Paps is the youngest.” You blink. Oh Lord its gonna be really complicated trying to understand monsters, magic, and all this fucking mayhem. 

The smoke from the cigar is thick and choking what little oxygen you have in your lungs. You can feel your head clogging with more fog and use what strength you got from you meal to sit yourself down one a bottom step. The shades are open in some corners of the room. You watch the fat flakes of snow pile against the sill and catch against the moonlight. Your mind briefly transports you back to your holdings where the pearl white sheen of Lucious’s teeth glints against the firelight. You hold your head stuffing the panic back down inside away from you chest.

“Ya alright there doll? Why don’t ya come sit in a chair.”

“YES THEY ARE QUITE COMFORTABLE TINY HUMAN! WINGS GOT ALL OUR FURNITURE CUSTOMIZED SO IT WILL FEEL LIKE A MINI BED FOR YOU!” 

The foolish words of Papyrus’s comparison does the trick to distract you and you imagine sinking into the furniture. You did wonder why the bed was so large in height and width. 

“No thank you Papyrus. Uh! The great Papyrus.” He crosses his arms and puffs up his chest again. Doesn’t take too much to inflate this ones ego, huh? You smile to yourself getting to your feet. 

“It’s still early, why not just come plant that tiny bottom of yours here.” Sans pats the red cushion two links away from him and you feel a hard passed excuse coming on. Would he buy that you’d rather not be swallowed alive by a couch? He must sense your hesitation because after he puffs out a plume of crimson smoke into the air he casually leans his arm against the back of the couch and crosses his legs watching you closely.

“Ah, c’mon doll. I’m not gonna bite ya. Like ya said, since we’re partners and all, we should get to know ya.” 

You still find that statement hard to believe. It’s felt like ever since you specifically met him he’s done nothing but shamelessly flirt with you. You mentally smack yourself. You’re a human, you doubt inter species relationships even exist. Not to mention, why would he flirt with  you  of all people? You hold your hands up in polite defense shaking your head.

“I really should go lie down, I’m still pretty beat and I think my toes are finally thawing.”

“EH? YOUR TOES ARE NOT IN OUR FREEZER TINY ONE!” 

Do NOT laugh. You pinch the inside of your palm and cant help but let a small smile slip. 

“A-anyway, thank you all for your help...perhaps we should discuss the terms of p-payment?” You twist the hem of your shirt knotting it between your fingers. 

You’ve thought about it. You did. It was the first thing you thought of once Wingdings accepted your request. That really was the first wave of panic that got you riled up. Just as you thought the same thing about Lucious. You are a female. They are males. Now that isn’t to say all males think with their dicks, but you’ve seen and read too many scenarios where its typically the final outcome. Eventually once you get down to the brass tax, you’re probably going to have to satisfy their urges in the absence of your money. 

It’s not how you want to earn your keep. If you had your way you would order and Uber or a cab and get the hell out of this place waiting for the news to be delivered that its all done and over with while you’re cooped up somewhere remote safe and sound. But that’s wishful thinking. If its asked of you—its a small price to pay on your part as long as you get to keep your freedom. 

Not to mention you need to rescue the little brat known as your step sister. As much as you dislike her prissy spoiled side she didn’t deserve any of these things to happen to her. You wouldn’t wish what you’ve been through on your worst enemy and you can only pray that she doesn’t suffer or worse—-

And then the monsters found a way to get rich quicker and that involved trafficking. But ah, that wasn’t enough. So how do you build a secure future by creating an empire? How do you build a vast business and keep it? By getting what monsters lack, humans. Your kind are very valuable here. Especially for the shady side of dealings.

Who knows what’s happening to her right now...Jukins words always seem to haunt you at the worst moments. Sans says something, but it sounds like water in your ears. You blink coming back to earth looking at him in confusion.

“Sorry—-say again?”

“What ya got to offer, doll?” You gulp silently as a puff of smoke curls around you. You wave it away scrunching your nose when the strong scent follows behind the cloud. 

“I’ve got my life savings.” You look about the room. Papyrus said Wingdings only bought the finest food, and from the looks of it the finest of furnishings. Everything seems to have a luxurious architecture with custom made designs. The saying  spared no expense  comes to mind when you scope the joint out again. If they’ve been doing this a long time then they’ve acquired more than enough money to keep them happy. So your little measles funds of just under nine thousand seem like Monopoly money. 

“Not sure that will work. How bout, and I’m just ball parkin’ here toots. Let’s say, your soul?” 

Your eyes widen and your heart hammers against your chest. It feels like your organ sprouted a pair of wings and is beating against your rib cage just to escape. 

“N-no...” The room is silent, the tension thick, the smoke choking. You feel like the rug was pulled out from under you and you just bashed your head against the floor. You can feel your knees shaking and you’re ready to go into that good night and run blindly out into the snow getting the hell out of hell. 

But then there’s laughter. The wide skeleton is chuckling and depositing ash into the tray on the pristine coffee table in front of him. 

“Relax doll, I’m only jokin’.” Your heart drops into your stomach and you genuinely hope he was. The bastard. You’re so tired of these monsters games. You wish you could slap the plastered smirk off his face! Papyrus is being oddly quiet, you look to him and he’s actually dozed off, his head nodding and jerking slightly against his collarbone. Big help he is.

Sans completes his endeavor of smoking the entire length of the foul smelling log and tosses the butt into the tray getting to his feet. You watch in silent terror, feet glued to the floor as he strolls over to you.

“Let’s get yer bandages changed and ya into a clean pair of clothes.” 

The floorboards under his weight creak as he ascends the stairs. You take a moment to yourself still shaken up by the—-threat? Empty promise? Possible consequence in the future? You sincerely hope he was joking with you and your soul would remain intact  inside  your body.

You find him already in your designated room. You feel the warm weight of your eyes become like lead when you spot your abandoned cave from this morning. You want nothing more than to burrow inside it, watch the snow outside the window until you fall asleep, and have nothing more to do with skeletons or monsters. Or poorly tasted jokes.

At the end of the large bed you see clothes tailor made for well—-Sans. The inseams are wide and you know just the width alone wont be able to encompass your shoulders. The only good his clothes will do for you is just being puddles of dirty laundry around your ankles.

“Sans I-I think these are a little too big for me.” He rests one flat palm against his hip as he watches you take hold of the shirt comparing it to your body and resting the collar under your chin. 

“Eh, we can tie it in da corners. Ain’t that what they do with mannequins in stores?”

“I think so, but we’d have to knot the fabric in more than one place and rolling over on one of them would become irritating after awhile.” 

He’s gone again for a time until he comes back with choice number two. 

“How bout this?” You take it from him replacing the other shirt with the new one holding it against your body. 

“Mmm, nope.” 

Before you know it you have piles of clothes on the end of your bed. Some are casual wear, others are expensive undershirts. All are way too big. 

“Can we cut one that you don’t use? That might help...” 

“Let’s not resort to that just yet. I gots me an idea.” He grins, well, wider than his usual offsetting one and disappears for the umpteenth time. When he comes back you look at the slim fit of the new article he has in his hands.

You hold it up to you, still wide in the shoulders but not where it’ll just hoop around you. This should fit. You try it on still keeping your old clothes on and it clings nicely to your shoulders—-until the sleeves fall and cling to your arms.

“Well, I guess it’ll just have to be off the shoulder. But its perfect. The hem barely brushes against the ground and you test the validity of the shirt by doing a couple spins. The collar and sleeves cling nicely, and your breasts will help to hold it up as well. You blush slightly at the thought and aren’t exactly going to divulge that information to Sans, but you praise him for his keen find.

“It’s one of Papyrus’s. I doubt he’ll miss it, and I guess if you’re borrowing it, he wont throw a fit.” You smile.

“Thank you Sans.” 

You’re going to wait till he’s gone to swap clothes so for now you stay in your old ones as you sit on the closed lid of the toilet as Sans dresses your leg wound. You point your toes to his lap resting them on the tip of his knee as he works. You’ve had worse things happen in the past and this isn’t bad. You kinda feel like Cinderella just in a fucked up weird way. And there’s no glass slippers. Then comes your forearm and before you know it he’s pinning it in place and rolling up the extra gauze. 

“Tomorra I promise we’ll have a better meal prepared for ya. A proper Gaster breakfast will be ready by the time those pretty eyes open.” 

You rub the back of your neck. Receiving compliments have always been awkward for you. What do you do when someone is observing you so closely they openly and unabashedly comment on a feature about you? Your parents always said it, but that’s family. Just say thank you, like your grandmother taught you. Even if you do feel its a lie.

“Thanks. I cant wait.” Or diverge and redirect the conversation ignoring the target completely. He goes to leave but stops just outside the door craning his head back through the frame.

“Oh yeah, and try not to do anything loud. Wings has this thing about getting his full hours of sleep. He gets cranky if ya mess with that.” And with that cranky is the perfect nickname that you already dubbed the older skeleton with so ten points for you.

Just to feel a little control you lock the door pushing the stand against the knob and gingerly setting the lamp on the floor. Now comes your reward. One that you’ve daydreamed about. 

You turn the dial and the spray from the shower is so soft and warm that your muscles are clenching with ache and need. You shed your inappropriate summer attire climbing in sorely making sure to usher in carefully. Once that spray hits your back every fiber of your being melts and relaxes. Sure you got designated bath days when you were cooped up, but there’s nothing like finding the right temperature and just standing under the shower head for a bit while it stirs your thoughts awake and eases all the tension of the day away and down the drain. 

You audibly sigh in the small base of the shower letting it fill the entire room. Steam curls around the glass panes leaking out to fog up the mirror. Every sort of thought runs through your head from why the universe is always expanding, to how you could inadvertently end world hunger, to what the hell the ending of Lost meant. You scrub until the essence of the beaded body scrub soaks into your saturated skin and the very scent will be enough to relax you and send you into a coma of sleep.

You untangle any knots in your hair reveling in the silky feel of your damp strands and decide to call it quits before the thoughts of:  Embarrassing and awkward school moments of (Y/N)’s life  get a chance to pop into your head and you cringe until your teeth crush into dust.

Your joints are sore again and its definitely time to sleep the pain away. But first, you snoop to find out what’s in the medicine cabinet behind the three folding mirrors. You figure its like every other persons home you’ve been too. Abandoned toothbrushes, moldy shelving, an odd pill here and there, deodorant, creams people never seem to use, and maybe bobby pins. You snort to yourself. Right. Skeletons. No hair. And not girls.

What you see instead hits you like opening a chest filled with blinding gold. All these top of the line skin care creams, floss where you have to plug shit in and the water filters through the head to get between your teeth! Expensive hair care products, toothbrush, toothpaste, exfoliant. You thank whoever is up there and get to work completing your nightly ritual of self care.

You head to the bed rubbing your legs together on the way like a cricket, just to feel the silky smooth hairless and lotion lubed sensation. You flop down listening as the breath of the heater disturbs the curtains to a slight flutter before burrowing into your cave and melting into the mattress happy its still retained your shape from this morning. The pillow cradles your weary head as you close your eyes. Here you thought your mind would be buzzing, your body too bruised and sore to get comfortable, and the situation making it difficult for you to sleep. Yet you go faster than a speeding bullet and just hope that this isn’t all some cruel illusion.

Your last fading thoughts before you pass out are the wishful thinking of when you wake you wont open your eyes to see steel bars encompassed around you. You’re looking forward to the Gaster breakfast after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meep so another chpt is up x3 enjoy!


	6. Black Lace

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

You gulp softly hoping that small bead of sweat isn’t going to fall from your hairline and into view of the other staring and sitting across from you. It feels odd to be casually leaning your weight into a soft cushiony chair but every time you even tried to keep your spine erect the height of the couch was meant for beings larger than you and therefore you naturally sink into the plush hold of the cushions. 

Wings is across from you. His stature fits perfectly amongst his furniture. As it should be. His suit jacket is casually slung against the back of his shoulders in order to free his arms from restrictions and you notice a glint of silver peeking from the white cuff of his wrist bone and cuffs. You can’t help yourself. Your shoulders are shaking.

The only reasonable monster you’ve met thus far is probably being tortured because he aided in your escape. And what’s more is that you’re still in a home of three male skeletons being forced to answer every tedious question. You tell yourself multiple times that this small measured amount of interrogating one-on-one time is how you can start to earn your keep. No matter how small of semblance it is. You never show your irritation even if it has been exhausting. It’s been a full day and your voice has been assaulted by the copious questions more than once becoming terribly dry and parched. 

You balance the glass of water in your lap thankful you have something to hold on to as a distraction. The elder Gaster is certainly intimidating without even speaking. You kinda wish Jukin had given you that pretext beforehand to prepare because here you were imagining animated skeletons like in the old school Disney skits or a Burton film, yet these beings are far superior than a dancing and singing animation. The real deal is blatantly gawking right at you and this is his third cigarette since he made you sit down just thirty minutes ago asking the same basic questions like the night before.

You’re expecting the heavy stuff now. You’re practically strangling your glass. You’ve told him everything from the beginning until the present and your story hasn’t changed a beat. No matter the mind boggling curveball questions he’s tried to trip you up on. He’s sent the other two away since they don’t apparently “work” today. But he wasn’t going to let them hover around him either and interrupt his heavy session with you.

“Tell me about these portals.” You blink. You’re blindsided by the question itself. 

On one hand you could give him information that might be harmful to you or others later. The strict warning Jukin told you about them flashing in your head. You still haven’t pegged any of them as good or evil because in your mind you know in warfare even your enemy can have personalities like these brothers. But when it comes to talking about portals and Lucious that might be a whole different beast. 

“I-I...” you look down at the surface of your glass. You imagine a tiny you falling slowly into the abyss of vast water filling up the space surrounding the glass . 

“Why do you hesitate? Have you not told me the truth?”

“I-I did! I just...Jukin warned me about the Gaster brothers, you all, and to be careful with how much I divulge. I don’t want to be on anyone’s side-“

“You don’t have a choice. I wont throw the fact that I saved your life into this equation, however, you did ask me and my kin for help and this is going to require you to spill everything you know.” 

The amethyst orb glows, almost pulsating with each matching synchronized beat of your heart. You can feel panic and yet there’s an odd sensation in your chest like the tingling feeling you get when your arm falls asleep. You sink slightly into your spot and blink shaking your head at him. 

“I get that but you have to understand my position...”

“Again, you don’t have one. You must earn your keep one way or another and this includes giving me anything that could prove useful in bringing down Lucious.”

“I don’t know how his portals work.”

“I didn’t ask that. What do you know about them?”

“Nothing.” 

He leans back in his chair after scooting closer and closer to the edge each hesitancy on your part. He becomes lax taking out another cigarette snapping his fingers to produce a purple flame at the tip of his thumb. Your eyes focus solely on the magic performed in front of your eyes. You envy the monsters and their ability to conjure it so easily yet you remain human and helpless. You wonder if he could work his magic against you. You ponder if he could draw the truth out of you with a simple flick of his fingers with the same ease as the flame. It vanishes once its deed is done. Wings holds in the smoke for a few seconds before blowing it between his marred jaws.

You wonder how this is even physically possible. Does he have a tongue? Can he even taste that? Feel it even? 

“I’ll ask again.”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Ah, some honesty. At last.” Can he manipulate his magic to tell when you’re lying? Your heartbeat quickens and you want to readjust in your seat, maybe scoot your own body to the edge of the cushion to place your feet against the ground poised and ready to run should things get out of hand. 

You start by relieving yourself of the glass by placing it on the table to your left side, then you scoot forward but feel something strange. It almost feels like bugs crawling against your skin. You glance to your wrist prominently feeling something there but seeing nothing. It couldn’t be your nerves tricking you right? Those phantom prickling sensations that occur when one thinks about creepy crawlies? You try your other arm moving it forward in order to push yourself up but feel that one is restrained as well.

Your eyes widen and you look fearfully to the elder Gaster who gives nothing away. He merely continues to confidently take deep puffs of his drag cindering it down to ash. You test your leg next but feel both knees and ankles lock, bound. It’s impossible...there’s nothing holding you there. Nothing you can see. Yet you freely moved just moments ago to reach over the arm of the sofa and put the glass against the table. 

“Why don’t you want to tell me about it?”

“B-because I don’t want any trouble with any of you. I don’t know you personally so what if I tell you where they are and what they’re capable of and you use it to enslave humanity? Just like the other monsters.”

While he talks you’re trying to not draw any attention to yourself as you once more try casually moving your arms and legs. They do not yield to your subtle movements and you remain fastened in your place.

“I see. So you think, in theory, myself or my brothers will abuse the privilege of having a clear doorway in and out of the Underground?”

“Yes.”

“What if I told you we already have access to get there. Not to mention Sans can freely teleport in and out at a drop of a hat.”

You look at him. Attention fully captured as you assess his words carefully. So each brother might have unique properties. Unlike Jukin who has his brains, and the Wolf who has his strength you never really saw what their magical capabilities were. 

“Fine, but even so, how can I trust what you say? What would your intentions be for the portal?”

“I suppose it would be to destroy them.” You watch him suspiciously. Did he expect you to believe that? There’s resistance in your heart as it pings as a reminder and you remember how cold you were out there in the woods. Bleeding out in the snow. Then you remember the warmth he offered once he saved you. But then again the duality in your head reminds you he openly admitted he thought about leaving you in the cold. Personally you wouldn’t have thought the same thing should someone need help from you...but...

“Why would you do that?”

“Because ever since the chapter of Asgore trying to free all of our kind with seven souls tanked, monsters have been slipping them through the cracks for payment and profit. Believe it or not but Papyrus and Sans were avid human hunters. You see once upon a time when on the rare occasion a human would slip into our world or rather,  fall  into it, they could only get free if they traveled through the realms and earned their freedom through puzzles and traps. But that’s a whole other story. The point of this story is its a nuisance now that the Underground has taken a turn. We’ve seen so much human trafficking go on and souls being harbored its becoming a problem. So if the scientist, as we know, and you know, was being forced to create portals like easy doorways to our world and yours, then they need to be destroyed.”

“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want in on that if it would be financially beneficial?”

“I’ve never been an ambitious being. Not in the sense of profiting from trafficking humans and murdering children.” You flinch. You bury your trembling fingers into the folds of your shirt wanting nothing more than to erase the information that was constantly being relayed to you about the Underground.

“What?”

“As I said. It’s troublesome. The sector I run will be bathed in nothing but peace. I do the dirty work as well as my brothers to keep the protected monsters residing in our lands safe and secure. But enough of that. I need to leave. You’ve been helpful thus far. Don’t disappoint me.” Was this all a test? To see how far you were willing to bend? He stands and suddenly the weight on your limbs is gone. You stay seated minutes after Wings has ascended from his throne like seat and exited the house with a clear shut of the door.

On cue the other two come through the threshold with a conversation already in place. There’s no mistaking it. He held you down with magic. They felt like hands. You could clearly feel the grip on your wrists and ankles. But you saw nothing and you would question if there ever was something holding you down if it weren’t for the slight purple blooms against your wrists when you met resistance in pulling away. 

“Did ya eat dolly? I was thinkin’ bout going to get somethin’ to eat. What d’ya say?”

He stops still absorbed in the conversation with Paps but you’re still reeling from seconds ago. This means then that...your step sister is more than likely expired. Your entire soul encases itself into a cold shell starting from the brink of your heart and traveling inside to out. Yes she was a brat. But like the many times you were a prisoner in your own head during your stay at the Wolf’s, deep down you reminded yourself you wouldn’t wish this unfortunate turn of events on your worst enemy. Not to mention she was innocent. She should be devoid of this punishment, even a rotten kid like her didn’t deserve to suffer like this. 

There’s a large weight pressed upon your shoulder and suddenly you feel the need to isolate yourself from all of them. You want to make yourself scarce avoiding physical contact at all costs. You pull away scrambling off the sofa facing the two bewildered persons facing you. 

“I’m not hungry.” Sans hand hovers where you just where, his fingers curling into a fist and falling to his side.

“What’d he say?” San’s sockets narrow slightly, his suspicious gaze hovering over you like a dark storm. 

“No more questions!”

Before repercussions can ensue from your outburst you’re bolting up the stairs and barricading yourself in your  room.  You sink to your buttocks against the back of the locked door burying your palms to the sockets of your wet eyes letting every pent up emotion that’s been frozen inside you since coming here, finally thaw. 

When enough time has passed you venture into the self hating aspect of having a good pitiful cry and reprimand yourself for breaking down like that. You’ve never been a crybaby. Not once did you break down even when you really wanted to when your mom told you that she was engaged. Not once did you lash out and throw a tantrum when you were forced to attend a wedding you felt was covering up the death of your dad. It felt more like a funeral than a celebration of gaining a new sister and father.

You didn’t crack, not an inch when it physically tore you apart to see the hurt look on your mothers face when you told her you were moving out prematurely just to get away from the chaos. Anguish writhing inside your body when she plead to you to stay, arms ironclad around you as you pried them away from you and you escaped with what little things you possessed and ran away. 

Ever since then you hardened your heart, pulled yourself up by the bootstraps and got on with life. No sense dwelling. Dwelling doesn’t pay the bills or keep you from being homeless. You worked, hard, no doubt by now already fired from your job, it has been months, but...what about your mother? What about your step sisters father? Time to get your own answers. 

After you give yourself time to calm down, regain your composure, and vow to never cry like a baby ever again because you’re a grown ass adult, you go downstairs where the aroma of marinara sauce curls around your senses stirring your stomach awake.

Crap...you’re gonna have to eat something before you start digging. You can smell meat baking which is weird because usually when one makes spaghetti you typically boil the hamburger in the sauce. You poke your head in. You’re not gonna lie...it smells delicious. So they aren’t going out after all? Sans, of course, is the first to notice you’re back.

“Hey doll face. How ya feelin’?” Your cheeks heat while you self consciously put a hand to your stomach unwilling to answer that. 

“Hungry.” Is all you divulge sheepishly looking to your feet. So he knows you were upset. You glance to Paps to see what he’s up to and he actually is wearing a frilly cream colored apron slaving over the stove mid concentration while stirring the sauce. 

“Turn the heat down, we don’t need another fire happenin’.” Sans turns his attention back to you patting to the chair next to him. You take one a quarter turn away from him sliding into the smooth grain of the wood. There’s a slight tick in his brow when you choose to yet again turn down his invitation to be near him and he settles on pulling out a cigar.

“DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT LIGHTING THAT RIGHT NOW BROTHER! IT WILL RUIN THE FOOD!” Wow. Impressive. You didn’t even see Paps look at Sans.

He rolls his eyes depositing the smelly fat lump back into his breast pocket. Even you’re grateful he’s not going to light that stinky thing up. You’re focused on Sans and what he’s doing. Paps is already in front of you setting down a plate and a glass of juice. 

“So is this the infamous spaghetti you wanted me to try great Papyrus?” 

“NYEH HEH HEH! YES IT IS TINY HUMAN! YOUR TASTE BUDS ARE ABOUT TO BE BLESSED LITTLE ONE!” 

“What makes this so special?” You inquire.

“Oh please don’t even-“ Sans’s warning falls on deaf ears when Paps turns sharply on his booted heel almost animating to life after being stagnate so long.

“WELL TINY HUMAN! FIRSTLY YOU MUST INFUSE THE FLAVOR INTO THE MEATBALLS! AS I’M SURE MOST HUMANS KNOW YOU ADD THE EGG TO THE MEAT BUT WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW IS THAT THEN I ADD ITALIAN BREADCRUMBS, MIX; ADD PARMESAN CHEESE FROM THE SHAKER AS WELL AS THE SHREDDED KIND; A HINT OF GARLIC POWDER AND I ADD OLIVE OIL TO THE PAN TO BROWN AND BAKE ALL SIDES. THEN I PREHEAT THE OVEN TO THREE FIFTY BAKING THEM FOR TWENTY MINUTES, PUT A LITTLE PINCH OF SUGAR IN THE SAUCE TO CUT THE ACIDITY, AND THEN ADD THE MEATBALLS TO IT!” 

You’re thoroughly impressed with his knowledge in perfecting a recipe. Yet, to you, it kinda seems like an odd array of ingredients that have too much mixed in. You imagine the strong sensation of nothing but garlic gagging on your tongue and making you lose your appetite. 

He slams a decorative plate down, the presentation is gorgeous, the aroma of the infused hamburger hits your nose going straight to your tum. You feel your mouth water and as your fork cuts into the ball severing it in half you look over the impaled piece on your fork. You can see bits of the green seasoning from the breadcrumbs contrasting against the brown tinge of the food. You can see the separation of the cheese embedded inside it as well but it’s not too noticeable if one wasn’t fully inspecting it.

You spoon sauce over your noodles waiting for your meat to cool down a little and spin a gracious amount around the metal of your fork before tasting it. He’s right, the sugar he put into it really does cut down the bite back of the heat in the sauce. You don’t even burp. Sans is eating it as though he consumes it all the time. Perhaps this is the only dish Paps knows how to make. Then again you’ve only collected a handful of recipes yourself so you cant judge.

Paps sits and gobbles his plateful up in mere minutes while you and Sans are in the slowest race to clearing the contents on your plates. Now you can take a bite of the meatball. You have a sizable portion sphered on the end and as soon as it hits your tastebuds your entire mouth fills with happiness. The infusion works. It just does. Never in your life has any restaurant or loved one made them this tasty before. It was meant to be a plain dish. Until now. You sing your praises pumping up his ego. Sans just snorts. 

“Alright, don’t let it all go to your head.” Sans chides clearing away the empty dishes before returning back to his spot. Paps seems to be in a food coma as he leans back in his seat crossing his ankles and propping them on a free chair.

“Don’t take anything Wings says personally sweetheart. He says nasty stuff to us all the time. Ya just gotta develop thick skin like us.” Seriously? Was that a joke or intentional? Also you take note of the new shift in nicknames Sans has dubbed you. You fiddle with a lose string on one of- crap! You completely forgot that you were still wearing Papyrus’s shirts! Its not that he hasn’t noticed and even if he did you would gladly like to wear your dirty clothes rather than a strangers, but you aren’t exactly wearing...your undergarments. 

Your face flares up and flushes. You try averting your gaze but its too late. The thought has crossed into your mind and you’re on the brink of no return. Now you’re running through your roster to make up an excuse to leave. Shower is out since you took one yesterday. Laundry would be too obvious and put a clear invitation to look at what you’re wearing currently so what else is there. You have too much dignity to say bathroom because those are the last parts you want Sans to be thinking about.

“He made ya more upset than I initially thought, huh? Your silence says it all.” 

Crap! 

“N-no! That’s not—well yes I was upset but this is all still just a lot to process.” 

“I get it dolly. Wings doesn’t make it any easier. I’d like to think of myself as a fairly reasonable guy. If ya ever need it, I’m here to listen.”

“Th-thanks but that’s alright. Some things are just out of my control. Is he really trying to find my step sister?” 

“He is. He’s also doing other things but, he keeps his word ya know.”

“I’m so full. I think I’m gonna turn in early for the night.” Sans looks crestfallen when you get up to take your leave.

——————— . . . ———————-

For the duration of nightfall you listen to the loud chattering in the living room keeping your door open a crack to have for background noise as you adjust the large ankle high shirt to your liking. You swiped a pair of scissors from a drawer downstairs and began cutting away at the length. You cut the long sleeves fashioning into a tie which you use to fasten around your waist winching it at the hips. It’s not bad for a makeshift recycled dress. You give yourself a spin happy the drape in the chest is large and baggy that it’ll hide the shape of your breasts when its tied off like this. 

Silence. Why is there silence? You crane your neck to the doorway listening for the disturbance of footsteps and panic when you actually do hear them heading your way. It’s too early to be asleep and too late to join Sans and Papyrus downstairs. You’re lizard brain freezes you to your spot and before you can explain why you look like a frozen cartoon character caught in mid pose of walking and stilling Wings leans heavily against the door propping it open as he produces a few shopping bags with black thick cord string for handles. 

You look at him confused straightening yourself out. He says nothing. Just sets them on the floor and tiredly drags his long legs heavily against the floor slamming his door and locking it. You stay frozen for a few more seconds before getting to your hands and knees to crawl in the direction of the several bags sitting obediently in their designated drop points. You move with caution as though one of the bags might attack you. 

One of the tops of them sinks and sags making a crinkling noise that throws your heart into your throat. Now you do feel foolish and laugh at your respite. You can just smeeeeeell the money breathing from these embroidered bags. You push aside the tissue paper pulling out the first article of clothing inspecting it. Then the rest.

Most are smartly sharp clothing tailor made to fit you perfectly, you know, you’ve tried on each one. Then you get to the lesser expensive looking brands which are more to your liking. The sweater is comfortable and baggy and your new favorite. Then you see the smallest pick of the litter and the last one you’ve rummaged through.

You swallow. Pink and black colors together are never meant to be cute. You know exactly what you’ll find in this little winking bag but yet you stiffen uncomfortably as you pull out the first black and lacy piece of bra and panty sets. How many fucking times have you blushed today? Well here’s the umpteenth time. He had to have hazard a guess at your size. Maybe they’re a little too small. 

You bolt the door. You push your dresser against it for good measure, again, and you shimmy on the actually comfortable silk panties first as they cling to your hips in a warm fitted hug. You pale and clasp the brow on next. The support feels nice, the push up, a perk. Fuck. How the hell did he possibly know? Did he fucking come in here during the time you were practically in a coma asleep? The rest of your night is spent in terrible contemplation of avoiding Wingdings at all possible crossroads or else you would die of embarrassment. 

——————— . . . ———————-

You’re plagued with nightmares all through the night. No matter how long you remained in your stasis state of being awake to rid yourself of the leftover dust from the dream to when you first begin anew and pick up right back where you left off. You cant really remember what it is but you know its bloody and brutal and it feels real. Each time it leaves your heart racing so hard you feel like you’re going to have a heart attack. 

You don’t even know you’re making noise until Papyrus pushes all the furniture away from the door in a grunting effort to gain entry into your room. You sit up quickly startled that something might have escaped from the corners of your dream and into reality. As you come to your senses you swore you locked that door...

In his best hushed tone he speaks mildly but it still pierces through the silence filling the empty space in your head. 

“ARE YOU DISTRESSED TINY HUMAN?!” You blink tiredly. 

“I-I don’t think so...”

“IF YOU WERE NOT AWARE I AM THE ROOM ACROSS THE HALL FROM YOU. I HEARD EVERYTHING!” 

“Everything?”

“YES TINY HUMAN. HAS SANS NOT WARNED YOU OF NOT WAKING WINGDINGS? YOU YELLING IS NOT GOING TO END WELL SHOULD YOU KEEP IT UP!” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll try to keep it down.” 

“WHAT DOES YOUR FACE MEAN?” You touch your cheeks. You don’t even realize you’re making a face. 

“I’m not—it’s just my sleep look?” He wordlessly comes in closer, so close the tip of well-where his nose would be is almost touching your nose. You lean back surprised by the boldness and intrusiveness of him getting this near to you. Clearly he lacks the conscience to understand boundaries. 

“Wh-what?”

“NIGHTMARES EH? JUST THIS ONCE.”

“Just this once? H-huh?”

He blatantly puts his hand on your shoulder to shove you to the middle of the bed. And now your legs are dangling in the air like a dead insect and you’re world literally is upside down as you try to right yourself. He slips under the covers in  your  spot that’s been molding to your shape nicely throwing the covers over his shoulders and leaving you beneath the gentle fold as the blankets fall settling back onto the bed.

You crawl popping your head out of the top of the covers gasping for fresh air. You have so many questions right now but before you can ask them you feel oddly...relaxed. In fact this whole situation should make you feel uncomfortable as hell but...you melt into your side, barely touching your limbs against Papyrus as you listen to the soft breath and gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Do skeletons need to breath? Then again they eat and drink so...your thoughts are fuzzying. Warmth curls around you like a heavy warm boa of feathers settling into your being.

Maybe this was magic too. Papyrus was affecting you somehow. Right now you don’t care. It’s soothing and there’s no eerie red light amidst the dark hollows of his eyes which you assume means he’s asleep, and you aren’t too far behind him. You don’t have terrible nightmares after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting cuddly.


	7. Coffee Black

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

_Tap. Tap. Tap_. 

The small scientist slowly opens his eyes upon hearing the intrusive sound. Now he knows how the tank of fish felt every time someone jammed their finger against the glass. He is, after all, confined in a test tube like cell with no audible sound coming in, just his voice going out. It’s only allowed when Lucious presses the button on the small intercom outside of the tube on the podium of the pedestal. His growly voice carries in this small sound booth of horrors.

“Where is she?”  _Ah, same question, different minute._

“Which  she  are you referring to?” His voice is tired, raspy, and unbearably parched. He can barely see out of one eye, the large mass outside of the glass is blurry. But he can see the movement of the monsters hand as he glides it to the other side of the panel and slams his palm down on a button that produces more tear gas to rain down above his head. He sputters, his tears too contaminated to bring him relief. His world goes dark. 

The gas stops. He chokes for fresh air. It wont be much longer. He knows this. But ah, sweet death will be a much better alternative than the latter. To rot in a musty hidden cell. 

The crackle of the speaker comes on again while he holds his throat and leans heavily against the cylinder until he’s able to sink to his bottom and sit.

“Where did you send her?” There’s too much crap in his throat for him to answer and even if he could his lips are chapped and his tongue numb from the poison. 

He shakes his head and watches as the monsters’ hand drifts yet again to the other side of the panel. He looks up awaiting for the onslaught. Maybe this time it will temporarily blind him so he doesn’t have to look at that ugly bastard anymore. 

—— . . . ——-

You can feel your joints in need of cracking and popping. They’ve settled too long like firewood collapsing in on itself and you need to move or you just might stay in bed all day. You go to roll over, swinging your leg first preparing to loop it over the edge of the beg when it hooks on something else. You still and get a sickening hot feeling in your stomach. Crap! You hope you didn’t hit him hard enough to wake him. But he lets out a soft snore and you relax a little withdrawing your foot eeeeever so slowwwwly to avoid the awkward confrontation that you just know would happen.

You’d forgotten that Papyrus had crawled into bed with you, but what you didn’t forget was when he rolled over during the night and literally cradled your head like he was holding a melon to his chest. Not exactly a comfortable setting especially when you were terrified he was going to play out his dreams in real life and he might pluck your head from your neck.

You escaped by wriggling and carefully maneuvering to the other side until two hours later when yet again arms wrapped around you. You remember because your dreams abruptly changed from you sitting soundly in a forest to the trees coming alive and the branches suffocating you in hugs. Note: Papyrus is evidently a cuddlier.

In the wake of the dawn you somehow managed to be arm free of the giant skeleton and slept for a good six hours. Now he has his back to you as he lays on his side. It gives you the chance to slip away quietly.

You pad down the stairs two by two quietly while heavily putting your weight on the railing to stable yourself so you don’t fall as you do so. The sun looks beautiful as the light fans above the forest filtering through the main bay window in the kitchen. An orange canvas amidst a white landscape. The tendrils are barely warm and it feels like a good day to stay wrapped up in your cozy blanket. You head for the fridge focused on finding the smallest meal you can get your hands on. You want to remain invisible. If you become an inconvenience to them they might see your presence as a nuisance and kill you. 

There are plenty of good smelling options and tasty items available but you opt for closing the door and snagging an apple and orange out of the fruit bowl. You seem to be the only one that participates in emptying this bowl. You begin going through the cupboards taking advantage of being alone this morning. You find a juice squeezer. You look to it then the orange in your hand. You would need a couple more to make a fresh glass and again, if you take too much, you might draw attention to yourself.

You were hoping for a refreshing cup but veto the thought as you take up a pairing knife and begin work on coiling the skin away from the bumpy flesh. The citrus suddenly fills your senses. You work carefully so you don’t have to drench your fingers in soap after carving at your meal and having the contents spill and stain on them for the duration of the day. You separate the slices and then you begin dissecting the apple into even pieces avoiding the core and the seeds.

You munch lightly turning from the island ready to park yourself at the table when you freeze up terrified at the figure already camped there. When did Wingdings come in? You look at all the food on your plate, having almost dropped it, but caught yourself in time, and then to him. You have too much. You know you do. Then again it just looks like a lot because you cut it into sections.

His cigarette is lit, the purple plume of smoke curling through the dusty fingers of sunlight and his paper is drawn up to his neck. 

“Do me a favor, can you make me some coffee?” He doesn’t glance up from the article he’s scanning and his fingers are lightly playing with the end of his smoke as he lightly waves it up and down in the direction of the pot.

“Of course.” Your hunger takes a back seat as you set the plate down and get to work on scooping and depositing the potent ground beans into the filter. “Full pot?”

“Half. I’m the only one that drinks it. Unless you want some then add whatever.” 

Again he doesn’t address you directly and you’re thankful for that because your cheeks are a slight tinge of red as you turn back to your work. You pull out two mugs waiting for the gurgling to stop and the steam to hiss. As it does you pour yours and his going to the fridge. Gotta have it to your liking. Two cream, no sugar, then you go to add some cream to his but he waves his occupied hand again and grunts displeased. Note: Wingdings takes his coffee black. 

You set his cup down first and then retrieve yours. The pair of you sip in silence. You get to work on clearing your plate but are distracted. You glance up at Wingdings. He seems to be fixated with a something. He finds a pen in the inner pocket of his jackets lining while setting the paper flat. He begins writing out strange sequences of numbers and symbols. He works quickly and you absolutely have no idea what the scribbles even mean. 

You do however, recall those same symbols around the outside of the portals ring. You feel guilty not telling Wingdings but you’re still unsure of who you can trust. It’s too early to think about these things anyways. You focus on the now. The taste of your coffee, the feeling of strength returning to your body day by day. 

“Wingdings...” The blinding motion of his pen stops. He glances up at you while you nervously push your plate to the side and choke your mug with your nervous hands. He’s abandoned the cigarette leaving it to burn up in the ashtray while only taking a good three sips of his coffee. You swallow.

“I-I was wondering if...you’ve...made any progress o-on finding my step sister?” 

He lets the pen drop and compass around the last symbol he made. You notice his hands. Both palms hand circular centers and you wonder if something made them look that way, or if he was just born—-or died with them. He picks up his hat laying on the tabletop placing it over his marred skull before standing. 

You watch nervously as you straightens out the lining of his suit and sleeves before taking one last large swig. 

“Almost. I have to speak with someone who might know where the kid went.”

“Who?” 

“Grillby.” The name doesn’t ring any bells for you so you just assume he’s on his way to speak with this person now. He strolls past you stalling at the door. 

“Thank you for making the coffee.” As he leaves he sends waves of icy cold against your back. You shutter gulping down tonguefulls of hot brew. It’s only eight and you wonder what time the other brothers will get up. 

You yawn and decide that maybe you can catch two more hours to complete you eight that apparently your body is supposed to get, and head up the stairs quietly. The liquid sloshing in your stomach like a warm pond. Paps is still asleep in the same spot you saw him in and you crawl back in. Your bare feet suddenly frozen and in need of a good warming up as you burrow into your nest.

—- . . . —-

“WHAT FUCKERY IS THIS?!” If it wasn’t for the accent and deep baritone of the voice you would have thought that it belonged to Papyrus. However, you sit up feeling the remnants of drool against the corner of your mouth while brushing it away and looking over Papyrus’s heaping form at the cause of the disturbance. Sans stands in the middle of the room motioning to the length of his brother who is lazily stirring awake while you take the time to rub the sand out of your eyes.

“Sans?” You sleepily coo, but he’s already in such a rage that he’s motioning with every word he’s yelling to the pair of you.

“DAMN PAPS YOU WORK FAST DON’T YA?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, HERE I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN YOUR OWN BED BUT REALLY YOU’RE COZYING IT UP WITH THE DOLL?!” 

“Sans.” You raise your hand to cease him from piercing through your head with anymore screaming. 

“No! What do ya think yur doin’?!” 

“BROTHER PLEASE KEEP IT DOWN.”

“ARE YA SHITTIN’ ME BOSS?!”

“DO NOT CALL ME BOSS BROTHER! YOU ARE OVERREACTING RIGHT NOW!”

You scream at the top of your lungs to diffuse the situation and it works because both of the brothers stop their screaming match as they begin coming down from the hostil argument. You huff and then sigh softly.

“Sans, I had a nightmare. Papyrus was just trying to make sure I didn’t wake Wingdings up again so he thought crawling in here would be a good idea.”

“Uh-huh and what else did ya do?”

You get to your feet stalking to the wide set skeleton slamming your palm against the round cheekbone and hissing when you instead end up with the stinging pain.

Papyrus bolts upright and Sans stills. He touches his fingers to his cheek then looks to you.

“Don’t ever accuse me of being loose again. Understand me?” 

His shoulders drop, the tension easing out of them while he casually throws his hands into his pockets shrugging. He does the opposite of what you were preparing for. He snickers. He rocks back on his heel and then plants the soles firmly against the ground again.

“Easy doll, I’m just messin’ with ya.”  Yeah, right. 

“It’s true.”

“Mhm. Not my business.” You cast him another dubious glare shoving past him. 

You take your seat actually wishing to be speaking with Wingdings rather than being confronted by Sans again. His heavy hulking bulk lets you know he’s descending down the steps and will be in view any second. Papyrus is taking a shower. Odd.

You glower as he strolls over sighing into the seat.

“No need to glare daggers at me doll.”

“Why shouldn’t I? You overreacted.”

“Look at it from my point o’ view. I walk in, I see ya wit my brother. What am I suppose ta think?”

“That we were sleeping. Due to us not moving and being unconscious. Oh and clothed. Thought it was a given.”

“Alright. But it still looked suspicious to me.”

“I told you what happened.”

“What can I do to make it up to ya?”

“Why should you even care?” 

“We’re gonna be stuck together for a long while and I don’t want ya angry at me all the time. I want ya to do nice things for me too.” He motions to the cup of coffee abandoned on the table alongside of the folded paper.

“You can tell me what your brother wrote.” You tap the edge of it. Sans scans the writing then looks to you cupping his cheek against his hand.

“It’s nothing of importance, really dolly. I stopped trying to figure out Wings scribbling a long time ago. I’ll give ya a piece of background on him instead. He’s always thinkin’ even when he’s supposed ta be relaxing, ya know? He can’t ever just stop and smell da flowers, he’s always gotta be busy.” 

Makes sense, but if that were true then why wasn’t he making his own pot this morning? 

“How do you know I made the coffee?”

“Cuz Wings hasn’t made his own coffee in forever. He either sets the timer the night before or he gets one of us to do it, if we’re up that early. I know he didn’t set the timer so.” He shrugs his shoulders. You faintly smile.

“Fine.”

“Truce?”

“Truce. But don’t assume things about me again. Just ask.”

“Good. Kiss and make up sex?” Your brow ticks.

“Not on your life.”

“So I have a chance since my life ended a long time ago and now I’m undead. There’s hope for me yet.” Another tick of your brow and you escape one last time from the clutching flirtatious endeavors mumbling the excuse that you need to shower. 

—- . . . —-

Sans and Papyrus ended up leaving for work while you took a nice long shower and by the time you got out you found yourself alone in the house. Your first time alone...since escaping. What would you do? Was it safe to be by yourself? They did say none of the monsters knew their residence was on the surface—-er in your world. 

Little by little you have to pay back this debt. So you start by cleaning up the neglected surfaces of dust on the shelving. You find the cleaning products and set to work. You scrub the glass of all the windows until they sparkle and let more light in. You clean the flue of the chimney as far as your arms can reach and wipe yourself free of soot. You vacuum, do laundry, make their beds, and you take the time to nonchalantly look around as you do so.

Sans room is messy. You assumed as much. There’s a trumpet and other instruments scattered around the floor. You neatly line them up or place them atop a newly cleaned stand and organize everything. Papyrus’s room is...mixed. One of the walls has faint holes in them and the outline of where paper was hung. Targets? He has all sorts of knives laying about which you place smallest to largest. His clothes are neatly pressed but the room itself is out of order and chaotic. Wingdings has lots of papers scattered everywhere. With those same symbols. You decide to work around them and find a pair of glasses that fell behind a bed stand. You clean the lenses and gingerly set them next to the lamp. 

You work until the house looks like its gotten darker and you begin turning lights on in able to see. You turn on the gas to the fireplace tossing a match that’s eaten by the flames in a matter of seconds before collapsing exhausted against the large couch. 

You listen a long while to the crackling. Eventually you feel your eyes get heavy and each time you blink your lids burn. 

You don’t even hear when Wings come through the front door. He gingerly sets his hand on your shoulder causing you to shoot up startled. 

“Did you clean?”

“I did.” You answer with a yawn. 

“Looks good.” He disappears around the corner. You can hear the cupboards being rummaged through and you join him sluggishly dragging your feet. 

“Did you speak to Grillby?” He looks as thought he’s going to make himself something to eat. “O-oh I already made you all dinner, you just have to heat it up.” You point to the fridge on the right side. He looks at you surprised and uncovers the contents relieved he doesn’t have to go through the motions of prep work. You’ve noticed he’s always coming home exhausted and barely teetering on his feet.

“He was away on business today, I’ll find him tomorrow.” He sits eating the beef stroganoff and not complaining or spitting it out. So maybe you did good.

“If you have cooking wine or maybe even get steak I can replace that for the meat next time.” You still don’t understand how skeletons need to eat but—at this point your lizard brain has overridden the strange and unusual and started to normalize it.

“Hmm.” That’s all he says as he cleans the plate. He sets it in the dishwasher pressing the buttons to the coffee maker setting it to brew at the crack of dawn. 

“Wingdings.” You turn in your chair to look at him while he sets the dry dishes in the cupboards.

“Hmm?” He hums keeping his steady pace of work. 

“Thank you for doing this.” He merely nods. ”A-and for the clothing!” You blurt out before your gumption dissolves. He looks over his shoulder to you.

“Did they fit?” 

“Oh yes but I—I like this sweater the best.” You look down at yourself fanning out the bunched hem around your waist then offering him a polite smile.

“I see.” He sets his shoes on the mud mat before wishing you a goodnight and disappears up the stairs. You wonder how much longer Sans and Paps will be. 

You plop back down on the sofa curling up with a pillow and blanket enjoying the feel of the fire as you wonder if Wings will complete his task of talking to this Grillby person. 

—- . . . —-

Wings shakes your shoulder rousing you from your deep sleep. You hum confused trying to get your head to come back out of the dream cloud.

“____, I’m going to need you to come with me today.” You blink confused looking through the gritty filter of your eyes at him.

”Go? Go where?”

“To the Underground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies! I’ve been getting a lot of qs x3 and I’ve been answering them on my tumbles. Same username. Anywho time for more fluffs


	8. Taken In Warfare

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

Of all the places to be forced to go back to the Underground is the absolute last possible choice you’d make. You’ve been battling your nerves since he woke you up this morning and dragged you out of you sweet comfortable and  safe slumber. Wings went about his business not intentionally ignoring you, but being distracted and oblivious to your trembling form shaking in the chair. 

Pay your debts you remind yourself. But not in this way. 

You would willingly stay in this prison away from monsters, away from the mayhem if that’s what it would take. Instead, you feel like you’re going to throw up and he even went to the lengths of making pancakes just for you. Your favorite kind too.

Your mug is full of coffee that grows stale and cold by the minute. Your heart is hammering in your throat and you’re actually glad when Sans plants himself at the other end of the table. He looks to you questioningly while you remain in your trance. Eyes going back to being glued to the table while your shoulders shake while you play out every possible hell scenario that comes to mind. 

“Wings, what’s goin’ on?” He too finally snaps out of his task to turn his attention to the younger sibling. 

“Business.” He dryly states finishing up his cup.

“Wha’d’ya mean ‘business’?” 

“I mean it’s none of yours.” 

“Why does she look so scared?” He pointedly stares at you jutting his chin in your direction. Your thoughts are too deep inside your head drawing you away from the present as it races. The Wolf will find you. He will drag you back to that shiny clean prison and you will never be without chains or supervision ever again. 

Your fingers become affected from your hyped up imagination and the porcelain jostles against the wooden table top. You squeeze your fingers around the cup until the skin around your digits pull and turns a ghastly white. 

You clamp your hand down over your wrist ceasing the obvious feeling you’re experiencing. Sans watches it all in silence. You snap out of your head making eye contact with the smiley toothed bag of bones and slump into your chair.

“What the fuck is goin’ on?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“ **Wings**. ” 

Now the pair are in a stare off of their own. You can feel the tension grate against your skin. Then its evident when red smoke begins to plume out of one of Sans sockets. Just the same, Wingdings doesn’t back down from his glower sending an unspoken warning to his younger sibling to back off. 

“My dear we must be going.” At the same time you rise, so too does Sans and you and Wing’s both snap your attention to the scowling figure. If looks could kill, you think to yourself, Wings would be a dead man—skeleton. 

“Come.” He simply calls to you and _woof woof_ you’re at his heels. Smiley watches you go, not too pleased to be left in the dark at an obviously dangerous and dumb plan. 

—- . . . —-

You neglected to catch the jacket off the hook on your way out, in fairness you didn’t even know about it until Wings had made a comment about it and he nonchalantly stated that he bought it for you in order to fair in terrible weather like this. 

He went back in under two minutes, retrieved the pale dark olive jacket with brown rabbit fur ( _fake_ ) he relayed to you when he noted the obvious scowl on your face and drew it around your shoulders. It is very warm and he says you will need it for the Underground which apparently you will be there in a matter of seconds. Like a snap of fingers you blink and suddenly the landscape changes. Sure there’s still snow blanketed everywhere, but there aren’t trees in this particular spot, where there were hundreds seconds ago. 

You do a quick turn about confirming that indeed you were back in the very place you sought to escape.

“How...did we?” You look behind you. Nope. No tracks. The last thing you remember is walking under the boughs of trees that fairytale lore is always imploring one to avoid. Fairy rings in mushrooms, fairy entrances in the peculiar twist and tangle of circular nature made archways. You thought the little blooms of golden flowers upon the archway was peculiar but said nothing of it. You are versed very poorly in magic and thought perhaps it was rude to ask of ones powers or if they have any at that.

“Come.” _Woof_. You follow. 

Wings sheds his arms free of the sleeves of his jacket and allows the elegant silky article to hang against his shoulders. You’re thoroughly impressed that it doesn’t budge an inch even when you both move over rugged terrain. You can feel the thickness of magic humming around you in the air. 

Somehow this place is even crueler in temperature. You drag the collar of the jacket so the fuzzy lining of the hood encompasses around your neck warming it in an instance. You’re glad Wings got you such a heavy and snuggly warm jacket. 

You follow close behind afraid that monsters will crawl out of the tree line and attack. The pines could conceal large things very easily especially with the massive lumps of snow clotted against the tangle of needles and branches. 

“Pocket.”

“Huh?” Wings remains silent and you begin to pat yourself down feeling something bulging from one of the pockets at your hip. You pull the knife out and look at his back confused. Why do you have this? Did he plant it for you? 

“I thought it would make you feel better to have claws.” You feel the edge of the blade drawing a small pearl of red against your frozen fingers. Then you find what you assumed he really meant for you to find. You draw a pair of black gloves over your pale hands humming when the warm packets spread across your skin. You recall what Sans told you about him. He’s always thinking. Always doing. Perhaps he’s always thinking ahead of things too, hence the gloves and the knife.

Something catches the corner of your eye and you’d swear it was just your imagination had a small sprinkle of snow not fallen revealing a bouncing green branch without its patch of white. Sensing your unease he stops to glance in the same direction you are looking.

“Keep moving.”

“What is it?”

“They won’t harm you if I’m here. They wont even dare to come out.”

“But what are they?”

“Failed experiments meant to, once upon a time, find a way to the surface. Now they scuttle about like rats.” 

You’re close to his back, so close you feel like a child when you have the great urge to cling to the loose end of his jacket. You keep your eyes fastened on the spot where the branch has now stilled then look nervously to him.

“Do they have names?”

“Amalgamates.” You’ve heard of that word. It’s on the tip of your tongue but out of your reach. 

You ask nothing further afraid to draw more attention on yourself and obediently lunge to keep in step with Wings’s already made footprints. The effort alone makes you tired, his gait is longer than yours and the snow pushes against you in resistance. 

You draw your hood up and it isn’t but an hour later that the pair of you reach your destination. You stop to take it in. 

“Grillby’ s.” 

“But where are we? This is not where I was when I was with...him.”

“This is Snowdin.” You observe the building. It seems like a small peculiar little bar hitched amidst the middle of nowhere. The ruddy color of the place and orange firelight on the other side of the glass is a stark contrast to the vast expanse of white landscape. 

You can clearly see the bar itself is occupied with faces that are strangers to you but probably familiar to Wingdings. He strides in, the color reflecting against his ivory toned bones look odd to you. You can’t even imagine what he looked like before he died...or so you’re assuming he did because isn’t that how things work in your world?

He strolls in, head held high and suddenly the atmosphere in the bar turns—cold and silent. You huddle behind him trying to remain unseen and invisible but when you take a peek around the height of the skeleton all eyes are on you. 

You gulp as he moves in further until he gets to the end of the bar top calling forth the attention of the owner. Suddenly you feel a mighty need not to sleep in front of the fire again because this monster is just that. A giant flame with black glasses...how do physics and things work here? What the fuck...

He too is wearing something nice as usual professionals do, with a white cotton shirt and black vest with matching black pants. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow revealing less...flameyness and more prominent limbs but still an orange skin color like his head. He’s polishing a glass when he notices and regards Wings with a simple bow of his head and then strikes up casual conversation.

“What can I get you?”

“Nothing. Ah, a water for the lady.” You’re not sure what to do with yourself. You take an empty seat beside where Wings is propped. Grillby sets the glass down against the smooth wood top sliding it in your direction. Your fingers connect with the glass and seconds later Grillby fills it to the brink adding in ice.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You take the opportunity to scan the room while he talks to Wings. You can clearly see faces eager to say or do something but like Jukin said, the name and face is nothing to scoff at. As soon as they saw just who entered the bar they all zipped their lips and feigned silence. Even the more drunken patrons wobble in their seats watching the confrontation transpire without opening their mouths to say something stupid or pick a fight.

You hear your name mentioned in the conversation. It’s muddled. You feel like you’re having an out of body experience and as you come back in to yourself you realize Wings is motioning to you. You quietly whisper to him with a ‘huh’? But don’t acknowledge being drawn into the conversation. 

Wings and Grillby’s voice has lowered and gradually the others get back to their conversation while still side eyeing the skeleton at the bar. You take a swig of the crisp water and have a flashback to tasting the same type while lying on your back, lips parted, and tongue touching against the melting snowflakes. You interrupt, not out of being rude, but because you’ve been wrapped up in your own thoughts that you’d forgotten Wing’s was interrogating the host.

“Is this melted snow?” The live flame atop his head sputters and flickers silently leaving you to roll the ice in your glass transfixed with the way the cubes come together and fuse.

“It is actually. Pure. From the sky, not the filthy ground.” You smack your lips gently together.

“It’s delicious. It’s subtle but...I can taste something that only snow has. If that makes sense?”

“You’re the first to actually notice. I’m impressed.” You clear your throat and slide from your stool with the glass still in your hands. Wings watches you for a moment before turning back to his conversation and continuing on.

You look at a small jukebox in the corner of the room. Strange no one has fit a coin into the slot and picked out a song. Usually bars consisted of low background music. You tap one of the buttons and get nothing but an agitated hum from the machine. The light flickers and there’s a slight crack in the glass. The fan of music to choose from is still operational as you flick through and yet there is lists and lists of music that you aren’t familiar with.

One of the patrons hiccups and nudges you. Despite your nerves still jarring by being here you feel slightly at ease with the fact that you’re here under different circumstances. This time you are with a Gaster. Under his protection. So you do your best to give him a smile.

“Hello.”

“Oi, you * _ hic _ * with that skeleton guy? Or eh...or the * _ hic _ * the other one?” His words are terribly slurred and stitched together its hard to decipher the specifics but you decode the inebriated beings question and offer an answer.

“What do you mean other skeleton?”

“ _Pffft_.” The dog monster waves you off. You remind yourself he’s not Lucious. But he does wear garb that has a patch sewn on that’s embroidered with a crest you aren’t privy to.

“I don’t understand?” 

“The fat * hic * fat one.” Sans? 

“Does he come here often?”

“Used ta. All the time. Hey yeahhhhhhh oi Doggo...waz the name of that asshole that always is drinking * hic * the condoms. _Pffffffft_.” He bursts out in laughter, so does his uptight companion across the table. They pound the table in a fury of giggle fits. Well...a laughing one. You look to Wings and just before you seize your chance to escape the other one who addressed you first is speaking again clutching the open part of your jacket.

“Condiments. S’cuse me lady I gots the wrong * _ hic _ * thing! **Ha**!”

“Well, excuse me.” You gingerly retrieve the fabric form his paw and mosey back over to Wings.

You set the glass back down looking back to the table of howling laughter behind you. 

“Shall we?” 

“You’re finished already?”

“It seems to be that way.” You look at Grillby. You can’t imagine a monster being that candid. In your mind they are all like the Wolf. 

“Did you find out where she is?” 

“No. I’m sorry.” You glance at him feeling that familiar tension that happened in the kitchen before you left. Something was wrong. You don’t make a scene. You go with Wings when he leaves and when you’re a good distance away he stops.

“Take her back with you Sans.” You perk up. What in the world is he talking about? 

“Ya sure?”

“Sans.” You spin on your heel looking at the wide skeleton just inches from you. A great big wall in your wake. You arch your head looking up at the familiar smile and then at Wings utterly dumbfounded. When did he get here?

“I know you’re mad that I followed ya, but it was really for the little lady’s protection. I thought you would use her as bait.”

“Sans.”

“Yeah yeah. I’m gonna take her home don’t ya worry. You do what ya gotta do.” What on earth are these two going on about?

Sans takes your arm gently but firmly not going to let you escape should you decide to follow after Wings as he heads back towards the bar. Now you’re both alone and you look at him confused.

“You followed us?”

“To make sure he wasn’t gonna do nothin’ shady. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t but.” He never finished his sentence. Just left you hanging and questioning things even further.

“Did you go through the same place we did?”

“Naw. I can teleport.” You blink.

“That........is amazing.” You’re calm on the outside, but on the inside you’re freaking out. What would it be like to have a gift like that?! You could literally be in two places at once. It would have saved you time dreading over the decision to go to a friends wedding or during the same day go to the concert you really wanted to go to. Saved up money for tickets and everything. No! No time to be distracted. 

“Do you have a limit?” He looks at you surprised. “I-I just am using movie and television logic. J-just letting you know!”

He does that infamous cheeky grin at you and scoffs.

“Yeah. I get tired after awhile.” He rolls his red eyes in the direction of the grill while you notice what in them? Longing...?

“Um...Sans?” 

“Hmm?” 

“There were people in there that say you go in there all the time. If you want, you can-“ And just like that poof he disregards your comment and brushes away the question you were going to ask after he answered you about the offe r you never got to tell him.

“AH HA! JUST IN TIME TINY HUMAN! I WAS ABOUT TO SERVE DINNER!” 

“H-huh? But we weren’t even gone that long...”

“Time’s different dolly.” 

You set the jacket on the back of the chair eating in silence waiting until everyone is done and digesting in the living room. You take Wings’s chair this time sinking to the back and bringing your legs to your chest. 

“Will you tell me now? What you thought he was going to do?” You eye the hearth shuttering.

“Who can say. I’m gonna go ahead and assume he took ya to gauge Grillby’s reaction to seein’ ya. He only stays if he’s gonna get a little...ya know. Physical. I guess he knew he was lyin’.”

“But he seemed calm and sincere.” He shrugs at you. Paps is softly snoring with his feet to the fire and hands interlaced over his stomach.

“You go to his establishment a lot then?”

“Used to. Different days back then doll.”

“Looked pretty hard to pry your attention away from it.” You quirk your lips into a smirk.

“Don’t be cutesy doll.” He feels for a cigar chomping the end and lighting it. 

“You really think he knows more than he’s letting on?” Sans prominently looks away. A cold wave of fear washes over you.

“Sans.” He takes a long drag and then blows it all out expanding his chest fully again. You tear up.

“Sans what aren’t you telling me?!”

—- . . . —-

The lights are dim, the fire in the hearth barely breathing and the owner stands behind the bar cleansing the last bit of remaining glass’s. He sets it in its place, rim down, and prepares for the confrontation. He stiffens as the door opens and Wingdings strolls back through this time with purpose. The room is now vacant of bodies so there will be no need to restrict ones powers or movements. This all depended on the owner. Would this go without a building being demolished and limbs still intact? Or would Wing’s have another late night of dragging his feet up the stairs to check on the slumbering woman before retiring to his own bed?

“Tell me W. D. Gaster. Do you know about kidnapping someone during warfare?”

“Is there someone in particular or are we talking specifically about human history?”

“Human history, which I might add is primitive, savage, and brutal.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you know what the conquering empires would do to the leftover people that weren’t killed or ran away after the fall of a city?”

Wings stands in the designated spot he was in before.

“They would take them as slaves. But did you know that usually it was women that got the shit end of the deal? Conquerors would take multiple brides, high ranking women reduced to rubbing the feet of the men they so desperately hoped their kingdom would defeat.”

He watches the owner unamused and ready for this conversation to be over. He does after all, have other things on his mind to deal with.

“They would call that being taken in warfare.”

“The point?” 

“The point is its always happened. Even now. We’ve just modernized it. Polished it if you will. Are you not guilty of the same thing?” 

“I suppose I could be. However. I am not subjugating ______ to humiliating tactics. Does one reveal their hand or do they keep their cards close in order to win? Having gotten the girl is just a small feat in the bigger picture. And this is all so very I nteresting and peculiar.” 

Several hands appear behind the marred skeleton. Grillby keeps his voice steady as well as his composure. He will keep his dignity when facing a Gaster.

“How are you no different than taking the girl from a king?”

“Because never has a woman willingly ran into the invading conquerors arms.” The hands shoot out poised to break the owner and all that sounds is the lenses coming free from the frame of his glasses as they clatter and break against the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing this one early ! Enjoy :*)


	9. Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys for some reason I had the box checked for the series being ended??? Anyway I took care of the problem and there certainly will be more to come! Stay safe and enjoy your day with Sans and Paps x3 Also did you catch my nod to SOLYGBM?

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

Apparently today is your day to be babysat by Papyrus and Sans. Another welcome distraction after being upset by Sans’ silence the night before. You had begged him to divulge any information he had when the discussion about your step sister came up. He kept repeating the line thusly: _He knew nothing. He knew nothing._

What did the eldest Gaster brother know about the situation and why did it seem like the two younger skeletons were tasked with keeping the truth from you? You felt slightly betrayed by Sans but needed to remind yourself they owe you nothing. Beggars can’t be choosers. So you picked yourself up after storming off upset and taking the rest of the night to sleep your stress off, and arose with an open mind during this unusually warm morning. 

The two skeletons assess you as you walk down silently and go directly towards the coffee pot. You take small sips gazing out the window not intentionally ignoring them but trying to regain your composure. Yes you’re upset, but its not fair to take it out on them. Your mind is always **buzzing**. Honestly do you constantly have to make a pro and cons list in your head when dealing with this?

You side eye the wide set skeleton and you see his laryngeal prominence bone move. Was that meant to be a gulp? Good you think. He should be a little nervous. You sit and notice in your peripheral that Papyrus is looking from you to Sans with apprehensive body language. He keeps still, stays unusually silent, and then as the quiet bears down on all of you he inadvertently yells at the top of his lungs practically sending you and Sans tumbling out of your seats.

“I THINK WE SHOULD GO OUT SOMEWHERE FOR LUNCH!” 

Your teeth ache as you unclench your jaw and settle back into your skin after nearly being scared to death and Sans turns on his usual whimsical charm as if nothing happened.

“Yeah. I think that’d be a good idea boss.” Paps shoots him a terrible glare and the bickering ensues. Well—sniping on Papyrus’s part whereas Sans is happily goading the poor monster on. It seems just too easy. Before things can get physical you interject.

“Where to?” Paps and Sans both glance in your direction and then Paps brings his thumb and forefinger of his distal phalanges to the sharp angle of his chin. 

“HMM. THAT IS A GOOD QUESTION TINY HUMAN. WE CANNOT EXACTLY TRAVEL INTO THE UNDERGROUND RIGHT NOW. IS THERE A LOCAL PLACE THAT IS FAMOUS FOR THEIR FOOD? PARTICULARLY ONE IN LINGUINI DISHES?”

“Aha, so the great Papyrus is craving more pasta eh? Unfortunately I’m not exactly sure where we are?”

Papyrus looks to Sans as if asking for permission to divulge the location. Sans shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it doll, just name off a list and I can transport us wherever it is.”

“If I’m honest the only Italian based restaurant I can think of that’s pretty famous and especially for their breadsticks is Olive Garden.”

“I THINK YOU ARE MISTAKEN TINY HUMAN! I DO NOT WISH TO EAT THOSE TINY GREEN SQUISHY EYEBALL THINGS! I SEEK DELICIOUS SPAGHETTI!” 

_Don’t smile_. Sans rolls his eyes. _Too easy_.

“Well, that may be true great Papyrus however, they have _toooooons_ of pasta options. In fact I believe they serve an endless pasta for a good price.”

Papyrus practically falls out of his chair. 

“WHY ARE WE STANDING HERE?! SANS! TAKE THE TINY HUMAN AND I THERE RIGHT AWAY!”

—- . . . —-

You chose one of Wingdings more classy looking outfits but know choosing white wear would be a mistake. You wouldn’t want to ruin it by an accidental slip of sauce over your fork. _Note: Papyrus has a pasta obsession._

You choose a classic black chiffon dress with pockets because....pockets— and you tie your hair up in a loose chignon. You also choose flats because you don’t particularly feel like breaking your ankles balancing on heels today. 

Sans and Papyrus look like they both could walk into a speakeasy dawning their finest attire and Sans motions you to come closer. You hesitantly do so and stop just a few feet away.

“Yes?” Sans smiles ( _wider_ ) than his usual grin and offers you his arm. You slip yours around the bend of his and Paps merely puts a hand on his free shoulder and in a cloud of red smoke you appear in the parking lot of an Olive Garden, still oblivious to where or what state you’re in. You look around nervously and mumble whisper to Sans.

“A-are you sure you should traipse about in public like this? Won’t people be frightened?”

“Eh, monsters have been frequenting your world more times than I can count. We’re no different.”

It was true. You remember the first few that appeared in the media after surfacing and being purposely photographed and taped on the evening news. You had never met one personally before until now but you remember how scientists and government officials tried to subdue the existence of a mythological by hiding them in high end laboratories. 

Not too many chose to live amongst your kind but after a large battle for equal rights to reside in your world without being threatened to be cut open by researchers, everything else fell into place. No one bat an eye as more and more surfaced and took residency in urban areas. Some even gained the limelight rubbing elbows with celebrities And the elite. It was almost comical how once you read about them in stories and watched them constructed in movies. Worried as a kid they could drag you under your bed should you put your feet over the edge. 

_Once upon a time_ your parents even told you they didn’t exist and here they are now moving in circles and choosing to be in your no magic, boring, colorless world. Then again you shutter at the thought of being in the Underground as a prisoner and everything you heard about the trafficking amongst the monsters makes you wonder who were the people helping aid in that profit? Who among your kind was collaborating with them and making them disappear? Were there monsters who seemed to have good intentions of moving here only to actually be working for both sides? 

You look to Sans and if he’s not worried then neither are you. And if Papyrus is really not too panicked about it then you’re able to walk into the building with reassurance that you’re unequivocally safe. 

Of course you expected all eyes on you but its the _whispering_ that makes you feel uneasy. Oh the things you can only imagine they’re saying about the three of you. You’re regretting your casual wear, pockets be damned you didn’t want to look like a lady of the night betwixt two skeletons who probably aren’t even remotely thinking about the same thing you are. You can just imagine the thought bubbles popping up above their heads filling with food and thoughts of devouring an entire banquet without shame.

You however, are cringing inside and you wish you could scoot behind the pair to make yourself invisible. Too late. You have to own that yes you are here escorted by two skeleton monsters that look odd amidst the public of people who are made up of flesh and bone.

“H-how many?” The waitress which is smaller in stature than you really looks like an ant in the wake of two large mountains. The poor meek little thing is sweating bullets and you decide to take the initiative in the situation hoping it’ll help put her more at ease that the three of you were here for lunch not to rob the joint and then burn it down after you all leave. You cant help but imagine the brothers laughing maniacally as people pour out of the burning building. It helps to melt your own frigid indignation and you crack a smile keeping it poised upon your lips as you address her.

“A table for three please.”

“A **ND DO YOU OFFER THE ENDLESS PASTA LITTLE HUMAN**?!” _Note: That’s his excited voice._ But in the ears of others he mind as well have just screamed a battle cry and ripped out a machete. You see people flinch and you gingerly apologize using your best soothing and purring voice.

“Sorry, he’s a loud talker.”

“Y-yes! Yes we offer it!” She holds the trio of menus to her chest as a shield while she peeks over the top and instructs you to follow her. Sans just watches it all with amusement. 

As you sit Paps swipes the menu as soon as its offered and she doesn’t even get the chance to lay it down on the table before he’s manhandling it and looking in awe at the pictures. 

“I SHALL TAKE THE ENDLESS PASTA OPTION TINY HUMAN!”

“U-um...y-yes but which kind would you l-like?” She gets out her pen barely able to scribble legible words as her shoulders shake. Poor girl deserves a raise.

“ALL OF THEM!” 

“Just start with your more complex pasta please. I’ll just have (insert your favorite item) please.”

“A burger please. Ketchup and mustard.” Sans says ignoring the menu entirely to watch his brothers squirrelly eagerness. She floats away as Paps is engrossed with drooling over the pictures and going back and forth between pages. 

—- . . . —-

After lunch Sans offers to keep you occupied by going to a common human hangout. A mall. Apparently being among your kind will help distract you for the rest of the evening. You browse and certainly see things that catch your eye. There are actually a few other monsters roaming about. Some loners and some jam packed in a group of people swelling against the flow of traffic causing others to disperse around them.

Papyrus stops several times when he sees game stores and watches as a karate session takes place in a makeshift dojo. Sans glosses over the music store tracing his phalanges over the delicate brass of trumpets negotiating with the shop seller to give him a better discount.

You gravitate towards clothing stores. You find a particular store interesting and when you’re looking at the different trinkets offered you stop and pause in your normalcy. You went from prisoner, to escapee, to prisoner again, and now what are you? Stuck in purgatory? You knew if you brought up the topic of home you’d be denied being able to go back to it. You do still owe a great debt. But also if you brought up the prospect of even leaving you knew you couldn’t do that either. Then again you never attempted to have that conversation with any of them yet. Perhaps you should. 

There’s a slight pang in your chest at the thought of leaving. But in the same sense you also get the sickly feeling of being held against your will. Perhaps Jukin was right in dubbing you little bird. Because no matter how far you’ve been able to fly you eventually hit a wall. You scowl setting down the necklace you were ogling. You didn’t notice Sans had entered the store with a newly purchased black case in hand.

“That’s not too shabby doll.” He picks up the abandoned jewelry turning the crystal over. The chain is rose gold and the crystal is raw amethyst geo rock jewelry. The floral tangle of thin gold holding the centerpiece in place accents it nicely. He turns it about and pays without a word. 

“I-I was just looking.” You try putting in before the receipt is handed back to him.

“Hair.” You blink looking dumbly at him before you get the hint. You turn your back to him pulling the curtain of your hair over your shoulder as he gingerly sets the case down using all his attention on getting the tiny fragile clasp hooked to the chain around the curve of your neck. It dangles to the center of your chest. You turn back to him.

“Thank you.” Sans stares for a little bit before his cheeks...redden slightly?! _How_?! And then he picks up his case without a word exiting the store in which you follow in equal silence as you rejoin Papyrus who is literally kicking a group of kids asses in a video game. You dead pan watching as he opted to ignore the arsenal of gun options and selected nothing but knives and is easily slaying each kid with a forehead shot. You gingerly smack your face and shake your head as he laughs maniacally as the kids whine and yell at the unfairness of it all. 

—- . . . —-

You genuinely enjoyed your day out with the brothers and are glad you don’t have to slave over a stove. Paps had lined his arms with plastic boxed pasta enough to eat for an entire week or in his case one sitting and you each chose one you wanted to have for the night. You suspect the waitress and chef collaborated on appeasing the skeleton just to get him out of the restaurant. Sans guzzles ketchup. You find that the oddest combination but as you make yourself tea to unwind for the evening dipping lemon into the green brew you notice that Sans is gradually becoming...unhinged. 

The more he chugs the more inebriated he seems??? Again... _how_...???

His cheeks take on a rosy color and he lightheartedly jokes and contends with his brother in an eating contest. Sans’ voice becomes just as loud as Paps the more he drinks and you wonder how the food doesn’t spill out of them considering they’re skeletons and don’t have stomachs. You’ve never seen Sans this at ease. It’s odd. But you look on in open silence as you curl up in Wings chair and watch as they create their own drinking games. 

While later Wings opens the door dragging his feet. He staggers up the stairs. You follow snagging a container of food knowing you probably shouldn’t but...sometimes he forgets to eat dinner. Something warm touches underneath the pad of your toe. You glance down lifting the sole to look and seeing a small dot of crimson smeared over your skin. 

You look up the stairs holding the box firmly in your hand knocking against his door and getting a tired raspy go ahead to come in. 

“I have dinner for you. Papyrus didn’t make it this time.” You can see him rolling down his sleeves hiding the guilt from the bleach of his bones. He hurt or killed someone. You take in a breath and close the gap between the pair of you offering it to him. 

“Thank you.” He hunches his shoulders allowing his jacket to pool at his waist as he sits on the end of his bed slightly slouched. You pull a fork from your pocket and set it on the desk.

You have so many things to ask but you can see his exhaustion and you decide that tonight is not a good night to probe. 

“I’ll tell them to keep it down for you.”

“Thank you ___.” He says again with a nod. You leave but before you do he says something softly, tiredly, and you pause at the door.

“Hmm?”

“I said you look very nice in that dress.” And he says nothing more as you hide your heated cheeks away from him when you close the door. 


	10. Pretty Little Things

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

You take comfort in the ritual you’ve developed with Wings in the early mornings, though you wish your body would let you sleep in just for at least one day of the week. He’s upon his designated chair stooped over drawings with more of his odd symbols scattered about, his violet sphere looking to and fro at the mess scattered around him. You only hope that when you go to clean later tonight the mess in his room wont equal the mess he’s made down here.

You begin prepping to make coffee occasionally looking over your shoulder to the disgruntled monster too wrapped up in his own world to notice you had entered the room. You don’t mind.  They have blood on their hands.  You know it, they know it, and they know you know it. It shouldn’t bother you yet a normal human being isn’t supposed to accept murder as normalcy not even if they do have the luxury of being classified as monsters. It’s still not a good enough excuse to take another’s life in your eyes.

You feel a bit bolder than the first night you got here and therefore you brush a hole sized gap against the papers obscuring the table in order to set down the mug. Black and strong just as he likes. He seems to notice snapping away from his work.

“Hmm.” He mutters opening his sharp jaws in order to chug a good portion.

“What are those?” You too take a seat munching on leftover pasta which still seems incredible to you considering Paps is usually devouring container after container in a matter of hours. It must have been an inebriated miracle that he missed the two stuck in the very back of the stocked fridge.

“Schematics.”

“Of?”

“Jukins portal.” You drop your fork snapping your eyes to him. His attention once again diverted over the scribbles and light pencil sketches describing the illustration in detail.

“How...”

“It’s a rough compilation but I think I have the basics down. After I visited Grillby I took the time to go to the lab where you supposedly escaped from.”

“Was the portal still there?”

“No.” 

“You understand this stuff?”

“I’m a scientist myself.” Your mouth gapes open slightly. He carried himself in a dignified business man manner. He’s in a cut throat business and the last thing you thought him to be is...like Jukin. 

“You...”

“Is it so hard to fathom?”

“Of course not! But...i-its just...I honestly didn’t know. I thought you were maybe like a teacher? No I don’t know what I thought...” You’re rambling. You remind yourself to shut up and just stuff your mouth full of pasta so you can avoid looking like a jackass anymore.

“I came home last night to my brothers passed out down here. What was that about?”

You subconsciously glide your fingers up to the crystal pendant dangling over your chest feeling the texture of the rough jagged stone between your thumb and forefinger. You stop fiddling with it when Wings casts his eye down to the cause of your distraction. You feel your cheeks flush thinking of the sentiment the piece of jewelry has and try to focus your attention elsewhere. 

You pick up your fork but its already too late.

“When did you acquire that? I don’t recall purchasing it.”

“O-oh, Sans and Papyrus took me for lunch and then we kinda browsed around in the mall.” Wings stands abruptly causing you to still. You recoil, eyes widening, and you can see he’s clearly upset. Irritation causes his sockets to narrow while your gaze drifts over to the vacant black hole. You gulp softly balling your hands against your lap. 

“I-I’m sorry...” You fucked up. You let yourself become too comfortable and complacent putting your trust in them. Of course you hung by a thread no matter the necessities allotted to you. You could spin your web as comfortably as you liked around the brothers but you had forgotten the warning your friend imparted on you. With the gentlest swipe of any of their fingers your web can easily be eradicated.

“They what?”

“I-I...”

He stalks to the living room and despite your better judgment you follow terrified he’s going to murder them or you, or hey, all three of you at the same time.

“Wingdings!” You attempt to yield his efforts with a distressed outcry but he ignores your plight continuing to advance. He sends a sharp kick to Sans foot rousing him in an instant. The skeleton groans holding his head looking utterly hungover.

“Sans I-“ 

“You. Quiet.” Your mouth traps shut and despite knowing his tone was meant to be a harsh demand, it almost sounded like a lenient warning to keep silent. He goes from pointing to you to swatting his brother upside the back of his skull. You wince. Sans groans.

“What da fuck Wings?!” 

“You exposed yourself to the public?!” You feel a terrible guilty writhing in your stomach when Sans casts you a glance.

“Well yeah, I wanted to treat the little lady ta a nice lunch.” Another cuff on the upside of his head.

“Wingdings!” You try again, he points his finger to you eyeing you with utter seriousness and then points it skyward. He’ll deal with you in a minute. You still and remain silent but it’s eating you up inside not being able to do anything.

“You idiots!” Of course while this is all going on Paps is literally sleeping through the whole thing blissfully unaware of how much trouble they were in because of you.

“We didn’t see no monsters we recognized. Ain’t no humans we knew either.” 

“Sans, I swear if you weren’t my brother I’d kill you.” You’re hoping he’s not serious.

“Wings, we didn’t stay long.”

“You don’t need to be able to see people or monsters you know because that’s the point of spies. They will know you. By name. By reputation. You idiot!” 

Another cuff. You fling yourself forward stepping between the pair.

“Wingdings its my fault! I wasn’t thinking! I forgot you guys are trying to lay low here and I didn’t even think-“

“It isn’t your job to “think” ___, its these two dolts job to do that and protect you. Exposing yourselves to the public was irresponsible and idiotic!” Note: Wings likes to say idiot a lot regarding his brothers.

“Please Wings...” All three of you don’t speak. The tension around you is utterly awkward. You pale knowing that was the absolute last thing you should address your savior as. It means you know him on a personal level. An intimately open relationship. One that you haven’t even had the honor of touching base on the past week you’ve been here. Of all the mistakes you’ve made these past twenty four hours this by far was the worst and most dangerous one. 

You hear the shuffling of Sans behind you as he gets to his feet becoming a heavy presence weighing over you. Wings’ attention is diverted. Without another syllable being uttered he exits the room. Sans give an audible sigh of relief but you stand there befuddled at his brothers reaction to just walking away. Maybe your punishment is coming later. That’s it. He’ll wait until the other two go out for their jobs then beat the respect into you without the hindrance of Sans coming to your rescue. 

“You workin’ today?” He calls to Wings as if nothing happened. You get a little whiplash, gingerly you cradle your head against your palm utterly confused and apprehensive about the way things could go later tonight. Him making you wait only jars your nerves further. How could you slip so carelessly? 

“No.” He calls back from the kitchen. 

“Doll?” Sans slips his hand over your shoulder causing you to jump out of your skin. 

“What?” You feel like your spirit is going to slip out of your body, your mind turn into a muddled mess, and your heart bursting from cardiac arrest. 

“Why so scared?” He turns you to face himself, your eye level lands upon the pearl button upon his dress shirt. He guides the arch of your chin to meet his ruby gaze.

Nothing comes out. Your head is filled with nothing but mist. Then a feeling hard to describe overtakes you. Like slipping into a warm bath as the temperature wraps around you in a heavy trodden blanket. You fall into yourself. Slipping into the silky rapture of feather light touches and heat and calming radiating around you like a plume of smoke...

Your eyes feel like they’re drowning in a gauzy haze until finally you’re able to snap out of the trance that’s got a hold on you. You feel a soft flutter inside your soul. You look to Sans before drawing away from his tentative grasp.

“Did you use magic on me?”

“You looked as though ya were having a panic attack.” 

“Did. You. Use. Magic. On. Me?” You grind your teeth together. Just the thought of someone manipulating you against your will with magic makes the bile in your gullet rise. 

“Just a smidge.” 

“What the hell is a smidge? And for that reason what gives you the right to do that to me?” Sans extends his fingers in your direction but you withdraw another step away.

“Doll listen I...”

“My name isn’t doll. It’s ___!” There’s another faint flutter in your chest. It’s the same sensation as a few seconds ago. You backtrack all the way to the fireplace ready to jump out the French doors if need be.

“Stop! You really just did it again after I just yelled at you for it?!” 

“___.” You let him approach only because there are no alternative means of escape. Gingerly he glides his phalanges across your shoulders giving a gentle squeeze, his expression is, you dare say, sympathetic. 

“I get yur upset. I’m just tryin’ ta help wit that ya know?” You come back to your senses escaping the mentality of being a cat ready to climb up the wall allowing all the tension melt from your muscles. 

“Sorry I just...I don’t want to be glamoured or under a spell or whatever it is you do...I just want to be in my natural state and feel what I feel.”

“I’ll make ya a deal. I’ll only do it if ya ask me.”

“I won’t need to.”

You stay in your room awhile. You were worried for a moment that Wings was going to tear the other two bone by bone. But in a matter of minutes it got cleared up as though nothing happened at all. They are brothers so perhaps the bond is stronger than you gave it credit for. You weren’t used to things like this, not in the slightest. 

There’s a knock at your door. You want to melt into the mattress when you see its Wings at the threshold, who lets himself in after getting your permission to do so. 

You stand, as a formal courtesy given your offense to him a few hours earlier. You fold your hands over your midsection trying not to insult him through your body language.

“Wingding’s I am so sorry...I will fully accept my punishment.” You hold your head up high as he gains ground getting closer to you closing the gap. If you were going to be beat like a dog you’d do your best to do it with dignity. Something invisible brushes against your cheek, the sensation startles you. You look in the direction of which it came but see nothing. You chalk it up to being a passing bug. But then there’s a tickle upon the back of your neck. Before you can turn your head to glance again Wings is upon you demanding your chin stay stable and attention on him by grasping it with his finger and forefinger. 

Your mouth gapes open and now you feel something brush against the back of your shoulders causing them to rise. You try again to look but Wings applies a little pressure to his phalanges stalling your movement. 

“I’m not angry at you.” Despite your better judgment your eyes well up with tears. You’re not sure whether that’s a relief or if you’re angry at him for not letting you know sooner.

“Please don’t speak.” Your breath hitches inside your lungs. Everything is muddled and confusing and him not letting you speak your piece only causes your self doubt to spiral further. 

“I’ve been a very poor host not considering your feelings during this difficult transition. From an outsiders perspective it looks as though I’ll probably rip my brothers to pieces. However, this is not the case I assure you. I’m hard on them because I want them to succeed and stay sharp. I was not displeased with you in the least. I was disappointed with their behavior for not knowing better. You could not understand what it is I instilled in them and therefore I apologize if I came off as cross towards you.” 

You want to melt into his arms in a puddle of gooey tears. But you made a promise to yourself. So you let your petrified lips free from their stasis and ease into a gentle smile.

“I don’t think my nerves can take it if you’re just leading me into false security. Please tell me you’re being absolutely honest.” 

“If one cares about a being, one does not wish any ill will or harm to come to them.” You thought you went through every spectrum of emotion being here but come to find out that now you’re being pulled apart and folded. Shaping into something that these monsters seem to be molding you into. 

“Of all the chaos in my life, you seem to be the only order in it.” Your heart beats a million miles a minute. You put yours hands against his lapel wanting to create distance like you did with Sans but Wings seems a bit more stubborn this time around.

“You’re not upset with me about the...nickname thing?”

“No.” He pauses looking briefly somewhere behind you then resuming his haunting gaze back upon you. “In fact I think, after much consideration, I don’t mind that nickname. If it’s coming from your lips.” His eye trails over the expanse of your bottom tier. Your cheeks burn and now you really wanted distance.

“A-Are you sure? I-I...”

“____.” You stand to attention and shut up immediately. How the hell does he do that? Apparently he’s got everyone trained in this house including you. Perhaps the exception being Papyrus since things go over his head or he’s sleeping unaware.

Like a whisper he withdraws from you leaving you to carry on with your tangle of emotions by yourself. What the hell was that?

No one is up the following morning, not even Wings. You assume he’s taking the weekend off to charge up his batteries and therefore you’re left to be by yourself. You know its a Sunday but also know that no one brought in the mail the day before so you make it your task to do so. You pull on your jacket feeling like a fluffed up rabbit and boots tromping through the snow down the driveway (ha, no cars) and across the road to the mailbox. 

You pause organizing the names in piles. If no one knows about where they live then how do they still get mail? You look for tire marks and see none. Where had this come from then? You rush up the steps and set the letters in their designated piles brushing the snow off in the mud room. You backtrack to make sure the door is still locked. It is. 

Sans is in the middle of making a sandwich when you barrage him with your questions. He looks at you puzzled and then chuckles at your enthusiasm.

“Easy doll, we do got our ways.” He takes a bite and munches.

“Yeah?” You prose leaning on the tips of your feet in anticipation.

“Wings tell ya he’s a nerd?” You try not to snort laugh. Scientist. 

“Something like that.”

“He rigged up the back of the box to be a mini portal. Ain’t nothin’ can come tru except our mail. A good buddy of mine delivers it when he makes his rounds with nice cream.” Nice cream? 

“Oh...then why is there a road?”

“It’s not a road toots its a trail. Hard ta see from the snow I know but it peters out at some point not too far from here. It’s so’s I know where ta go when I take the sled out.”

“Snowmobile?”

“Not too bright this morning are ya toots. Have some coffee.” You ignore the slight to your intelligence and take a better look at the house. There’s a garage attached but the small room to get to it seemed like nothing more than a reading room. Huh. 

“Would you take me?”

“On a ride?”

“Yeah why not?” He sets his half eaten morsel down looking away from you in contemplation.

“Ya know how ta drive? I wouldn’t mind bein’ a passenger on da way back.” Now its your turn to grin.

”I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for all my loves who are enjoying their adventure thus far nsfw is encroaching kids. Anyway hope u melt like hot butter when reading ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	11. The Chalkboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! the following chapter is rated MA please read at your own risk, a major character death is about to take place. And as promised the next chpt will feature nsfw so warning on that as well ⚠️ And always, hope you’re still enjoying your ride!

Your arms are fully enveloped around Sans’ large bone width. You picture needing at least two more arm lengths in order to wrap around and connect to his midsection. Your head is pressed to his back in order to steady your neck so your head doesn’t move like a bobble head as you glide over the smooth surface of snow upon open fields. The motor of the engine is all you can hear in your muffled protective gear and the weight of the helmet is heavy so you’re glad Sans allows you to lean your weight into him as he drives. He sports a jacket and no heavy dome to protect his chrome. He opted for goggles with a tint of orange to avoid the snow from stabbing into his eyes while he easily drives at blinding speed.

There’s virtually been no bumps on the paths he’s weaved over and so your journey has been glassy thus far causing you to lull into a zen medatative state that threatens to make you fall asleep. You understand now why the brothers chose the spot they found to build a house. The landscape dips and peaks and the scenery is breathtakingly peaceful. Snowdin was almost crude, like an illusion of water spread upon a mirror. A wave of heat shimmering against the blacktop. Here, it was natural, soft, and didn’t need the pieces to fit together like it was in the monsters world. 

For being such a crude and merciless season it did have its breath of beautiful moments. There’s a light snowfall covering the hills as the sun sits behind a bank of clouds but still manages to extend warm light to the surface. It looks like someone shining a flashlight through a quart of milk. Your eyes glide to the dazzling winking pines where the patches of snow that cling to the branches catch against the sunlight. Everything glitters and illuminates in a gossamer of white. 

You jut your chin into his back glancing up at him from the lower back of his shoulder but he’s preoccupied with finding the right pathways to take. It seems like only Sans knows how to solve the labyrinth of trails that map in and out of the thicket of woods. Or maybe he was just showing you everything. Whatever the reason you were certainly impressed.

The morning slipped away and eased into a nice afternoon that actually seemed to warm up as the sun grew higher. Sans picked a spot where there was a sparse clearing amidst the mass sea of trees parking atop a small hill that gave way to a slight depression. Sans strung the goggles to the top of his own head before looking inside the flap of the machine in search for the meal you prepared just for this outing.

“Ready ta head back after lunch?”

“I think so. Apparently being a passenger on the back of the sled and staying relaxed and limp makes one very tired.”

“I’ve been da one handling the hard stuff and you’re tired.” He rolls his eyes in his sockets and camps himself upon the seat of the sled. The weight sinks slightly into the snow. You glide your gloved fingers over your lips hiding your smile at the sight.

“Something simple and light on our stomachs. I figured it wouldn’t do good to have something with too much sauce of heavy considering we’d be jostling for hours.” You motion to the sled unwrapping your meal of fruit and a sand which. You clump snow together in a seated lump plopping yourself gingerly against it and devouring the box in your lap.

“Heard Wings went up ta talk wit ya.” 

“Is nothing sacred in that house?”  
”Naw. We tell each other every thin’.” You feel a smirk creeping across your lips as you fold your hands over your knees and rock back slightly looking at Sans like the cat that ate the canary.

“If that’s true then why didn’t you know about Papyrus climbing into my bed?”

He practically sputters on the last gob filled bite he tore from his lunch and coughs until it dislodges from his throat.

“I would’a known! Paps cant keep a secret worth shit!”

“Secret implies that we did something that earned discretion. However, we were literally asleep so...”

“Yeah sure that’s what dat cuddlin’ meant huh?”

“Sans Gaster dare I say based on my observations from that and you bringing up Wings, are you jealous?” He snorts. If that’s possible. 

“Naw doll.”

“Then why bring it up? You fishing for something?” He quiets and in that silence you gather there’s some semblance of truth to your hypothesis.

“Sans?” You prod with a bit more bite behind your accusation.

“We better get goin’ gotta be back before dinner.”

You cross your arms and legs letting him know through your body language that you refuse to budge until he tells you what you want to know. He looks at you with slight irritation but then chuckles. 

“C’mon doll get up.”

“No.”

“I ain’t jokin’ around.”

“Finally we’re on the same page because neither am I.”

He moves closer tromping through the snow prompting you to hold your ground. He kneels before you sockets narrow as though he’s addressing a toddler. You scowl at him. You can tolerate not getting answers a lot of the time, but this matter you refused to budge on.

“I wont ask twice.” You lean in challenging him right back.

“You going to make me move?”

“If I have ta.” Before you can say another word he scoops you up in his arms. You struggle flailing your limbs in protest.

“Sans!” 

“You I told ya ta get up.” He retorts nonchalantly strolling back to the sled with you slumped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You resign yourself to putting your elbow upon his shoulder and cupping your head letting your free arm dangle against his back.

“You’re being ridiculous. You just want to avoid the question.”

“What question was that again?” In response you feel him slide the hand securing you against your tailbone slip slightly and his free hand comes up and gropes you on the ass. You yelp in surprise pounding him against the back feebly with your closed fists.

“HEY!” 

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you ‘hmm’ me Sans Gaster! You just copped a feel!”

He ignores your chastising continuing his stroll over plopping you down on the seat. 

“Alright toots, lets get back.” You snag the key from the ignition putting it into your pocket. Sans is not entertained by that. 

“I get it. You’re not an expressive touchy-feely guy and I get that. I respect that. But what’s your motive behind your madness? We’re you really afraid the big bad human would corrupt your little brother or was there a different reason.” He goes to grab the keys behind your back and you give him a gentle slap to the back of his knuckles.

“Playful today aren’t ya doll?”

“Spill.” He unzips his jacket halfway pulling out a cigar. “This going to be a long explanation?” He lights the tip chomping against the opposite end taking in the potent taste of Tobacco but to you it reeks. He expels the smoke in a red plume that fans around your face. You wave your hand back and forth to clear the air gazing up at him with wonderment. 

“Naw. Just felt like having dessert after lunch.”

“Doesn’t smell sweet.”

“Different strokes doll.” You roll your eyes at his caviler attitude. In another exhale his hulking shilouette is gone from the smoke and in a blink of an eye you feel the keys yanked from the bowl of your palm. You twist in your spot gaping at how freely and quietly he used his magic. You’re still not used to seeing it so openly like this. Would everyone’s magic be visible like this or just Sans? It couldn’t be. You were sure Wings used his magic to hold you down but saw nothing, you still need to figure out what his power is. 

“That’s not fair.” You retort dryly as he dangles his prize above your head with a sharp toothed grin.

“Tough toots. When I finish with this I expect ya to take us back.” He tosses the keys on the seat beside you showcasing his cigar in a arching motion to signify he means his “dessert”. 

“What if I turn away?” He raises the spot where his brows if he were human would be at you then rubs his fingers beneath the angle of his chin. To save him from turning your idea down or diverting the conversation you smoothly spin with your bottom away from him hooking your feet to the footrest on the opposite side. Now you weren’t watching him. Maybe he was a little more shy than you initially thought.

Then again Sans was more likely to tease you then give away anything that could get you to know him better. It was up to him now. His choice. You weren’t going to force his hand. You shimmy the chain around your neck from beneath the folds of your layers pulling the gem out. You carefully take your black gloves off (given graciously to you on loan by Wings) and fiddle with the ragged bite of the exposed jewel.

You can hear Sans flick ash from the tip as his fingers tap against the thick paper of his treat. They certainly all seemed to be terrible chain smokers though you’ve yet to catch Papyrus in the act you suspect him taking part in the unhealthy habit. 

“I dunno what you wanna hear from me?” Now what you can’t see is Sans watching you while your delicate fingers roll the jewel around. What you don’t know is that he secretly enjoys doting on the little human that’s invaded his home like creeping ivy but bloomed into something unexpected and beautiful when he wasn’t paying attention. 

You stay silent softly humming in beat with the wind as it knocks the branches above your head to and fro. The sound is like two charging stags crashing their antlers into one another as they scrape and crash against one another. 

“Don’t think. Just say what comes to mind.”

“If I did that ya’d run for da hills.”

“Try me.” You tuck it safely back into your jacket zipping carefully to avoid the chain choking in the zipper. You pull the leather gloves back over your hands noting how impossibly long Wings fingers extend. You bend the tips until they touch the middle section of your own finger and smile softly to yourself. 

“I ain’t good wit words toots.” You get to your feet brushing off the dust of snow collected upon your lap as you waited. You turn to face Sans giving him a kind smile.

“Alright, alright I wont pry anymore. Done with the cigar?” You lift the keys letting them jingle together.

It really was a nice outing and as soon as you came through the door Papyrus was upon you like a toddler in desperate need of chocolate milk. His barking orders to know where it was Sans whisked you away to made you laugh at his reaction. You didn’t meant to...and you certainly hope Paps didn’t take it as an insult but he was just so easy at making you feel at ease with his antics and making you smile more than the other two residing here. 

Once things cleared up you told the pair they would have to wait for dinner until you showered and thawed your popsicle self out. With damp strands you strode to the kitchen and got things started without the watchful eye of any of the brothers. Wings was cooped up in his room no doubt doing whatever it is he does involving science and schematics while the other two were chatting away and watching television. 

You could still hear Paps prodding Sans with questions and the more flustered he became the more extravagant and exaggerated the answers. At one point Sans described how after lunch he began to take your clothes off and warming you up a different way that didn’t involve riding the snowmobile. You wanted to smack him in the back of the skill with the heaviest object in the kitchen but let it be hoping he would grow bored with Papyrus’ screaming after the details became more extensive. 

You make something nice and heavy with sauce setting everything out. You’re taken aback when all of Wings previous siege of conquering the table with papers and scribbles is completely cleared up. You instead fill the table with the meal you made everyone and call to them that its hot and ready. Sans squeezes in a penis joke and you roll your eyes heading up the stairs to Wings room with his plate.

Before your knuckles can land against the red wood he grants you permission to enter. You scoot the door open with your hip walking over to the square table in the corner of his room setting the plate down.

“Dinner.” He keeps his eyes glued to the page of what appears to be a notebook before glancing up at you. Your eyes focus behind him to the chalkboard that’s part of the back wall. “I’ve seen these type of things before. For kids rooms and stuff so they can literally draw on the walls if they want.”

“I didn’t have enough room on a regular board so I had one build for that section of the room.” You glide over touching the part where there’s no lettering feeling the cool texture of the granite. 

“Really cool.” There’s drawings and writing in both your native tongue and in his scribbles that you cant understand. You decide to read some of the words you do know. There’s a large portion written about Jukins portal as well as a miniature drawing probably transferred from the drawing he made at the table yesterday. 

Your eyes glance up as the sound of steel hitting porcelain carries on behind you as he devours his meal. Your eyes are drawn to another section. A name you know. Grillby. Sans never did answer you that night. You read the section beneath his name. 

Your stomach shrivels, your brow breaks out in sweat, you feel all the air in your body vacuum out of your lungs, and you clamp your hand over your mouth trying not to scream as your eyes reread. It couldn’t be. You had to of missed the “not” somewhere in that little paragraph. You stumble back prompting Wings to rise from his seat startled by your reaction. 

He looks to the section you were facing and quickly reaches his arms out to retrieve you.

“____.” He says softly. You slap his hands away.

“Don’t touch me!” You cry out finally able to move and speak. You scramble away from him letting out a terrible wailing rousing the others from the kitchen. 

“What happened?!” Sans pokes his head through the doorframe with Paps towering just behind him.

“Get out!” Wings barks to his brothers, his amethyst sphere blazing in a deep violet. The door slams with the force of something unseen to you holds it closed.

Your world is ripping apart and there’s no way of stopping it no matter how hard you try gripping at the seams. You fold over your midsection clutching your arms to your stomach and bowing until your forehead touched against the floor letting all your emotions dissolve in the form of burning tears. 

Wings doesn’t touch you. He kneels in front of you wanting more than anything to put a comforting hand upon your trembling back. He sits in silence until your two hour fit subsides and your voice is hoarse unable to sob without you breaking out in a chain of choking coughs.

You swallow the dry warm lump in your throat opening your mouth to finally break the silence and speak. 

“Why...why didn’t you just tell me...”

“I wanted to wait until the end of the week in order to give you time.” You unfurl yourself feeling a terrible sore aching in respite of your stillness. You know your eyes are red, face puffy, and expression utterly miserable. But you could care less. Not when with what you just read.

“You honestly think, me finding out my step sister was murdered would be any easier to know by the end of the week?!” You want to throttle someone. You want to put your hands around anyone’s throat you can wrap them around and squeeze until their in just as much pain as you are.

“I am so-“

“DON’T TELL ME YOUR SORRY!” You hold your ears fitting your fingers into the strands of your hair tugging until they are secure and resist against your pull. “Wings! Why didn’t you just tell me?!”

“Because I knew you’d want me to take you back to the Underground in order to kill the one responsible.”

“Isn’t that what I’m hiring you for?!” 

“_____. That isn’t who you are...”

“Bullshit! This is what your world is turning me into!” He goes to brush the tears away from your cheek but you just want to wallow in your misery. No—-if you let your heart ache this painfully any longer you’re fearful you might go into cardiac arrest. 

You get to your feet running out the door with Wings calling after you. You find Sans room knocking frantically feeling another season of tears threatening to burst though you’re not really sure how you even have enough water to keep crying. 

He opens his door looking at you concerned and worried. You don’t want his pity. Not from him. Least of all from Sans. You take in a shaky breath swiping at the lose pearls that roll from the corner of your eyes. You can only see a blurry vision of the sympathetic skeleton. You don’t want him to speak. You need to interject first. You just want silence and suffering. But you don’t want to keep drowning in it to the point of having your heart split into two.

“Sans...I’m asking you. No, begging you to use your magic. Please. Make me numb or I’ll die...please...”  


**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**


	12. Skeletons In the Closet

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

You’re curled up around Papyrus like an abandoned kitten found new owner and clinging to his arm for some semblance of comfort. He snores softly in his deep sleep and its easy to focus on the nonchalant goofball that he seems to be at times rather than his alternate personality. Whenever your thoughts try to drift back to the writing on the chalkboard you can feel a numbing sensation crawl beneath your skin like ants walking along your nerves.

Your face is puffy, cheeks stained with crusted tears that you were too exhausted to wipe away and your sole focus presently is absentmindedly watching the rise and fall of his chest in the beam of moonlight ensconcing his side of the bed in hard triangular fractions. You wonder how he’s able to snore given he has no nose, yet its soft, almost like the deep chested purring of a cat. It helps keep you at ease. You nuzzle your head against the fabric of his shoulder and he shifts slightly but doesn’t rouse. 

You go a little further scooting up so you’re in alignment with the crook of his neck fitting your head perfectly against the cool texture of his skull. His mouth closes briefly and he hums in his sleep still not peeking an eye open. For that you’re thankfulotherwise you’d be embarrassed as all hell to be caught doing this. You feel like a child again. Like the nights when you called for your mother to chase the monsters away and begged her to stay until you fell back asleep.

Your gaze falls to the pane of the window as snow gently builds against the sill. You notice as the heater kicks on, a cobweb wheezes softly against the breath of the vent. You’ll have to clean up your room again despite not getting the chance to ask Wings to indulge your therapeutic cleaning sprees by asking to invest in a duster. Your thoughts go back five hours earlier when you fled from the elders den throwing yourself to the mercy of the smiley skeleton. You vowed you would never need his magic to be used on you yet your heart was breaking and it was painful to endure. You retrace the lines of his expression when you practically fell to your knees begging him for this cruel act of kindness. 

Without uttering a word he stepped aside allowing you entry while a visibly upset Wings stumbled down the hall in an attempt to ease your sorrow but when he saw Sans he knew that you were out of his reach. He had opened his hands and allowed you to fly away knowing that Sans would be better suited to take care of you in this situation. With a defeated knowing nod of his head he knew what the look in his younger brothers eyes meant. They did not look on him with hate or anger, instead there was an unspoken acknowledgment shared between the siblings while the marred elder skeleton slumped his shoulders and retreated back into the yawning shadows of the hallway.

Sans gingerly shut the door making his way to your sobbing form stooped in the corner of his room roiling in a ball of wallowing misery. He scooped you up in the strong foundation of his arms like you weighed nothing. It was different than your outing that afternoon.

He set you down upon the red velvet cushioning of his settee allowing you to get comfortable as he took his place beside you encompassing his broad arm around your shoulder drawing you to his chest. You went without a fuss embarrassed to be seen like this and happy that you were able to hide your blotted face against his vest but regretted sullying it with the salt from your tears. He said nothing if he was offended and allowed you to wail and rage until your voice became shot and you gradually melted against him.

You had nothing left in you but little stuttering intakes of breath like reverse hiccups entering into your lungs trying to pull the air from the outside in. Your expression grew placid as you focused on the shiny brass of his trombone camped on the other side of the room. You felt the weight of the underlying depth of your shattered heart slowly mending together piece by piece. Something curled around inside your chest reaching to the furthest depths of your mind like a soft stroke of fingers against a cheek and easing the pain behind your ribcage. 

You didn’t need to ask him if he was working his magic yet. In fact, the featherweight feeling that slowly began to overtake you was evidence enough for you. Typically whenever you were angry or upset it weighed you down so deeply that you became fatigue, irritated, and irritable all in the same measure. Everything was going in reverse, something that’s never happened in the course of your existence thus far so it was a nice change of pace for you.

It was late yet you weren’t ready to turn in. Your thoughts were fighting against his influence but like fog overtaking the grips of a forest his spell subdued any panicked stricken thoughts that threatened to arise. It really was like a blanket covering things up and the harder you tried to fight it the easier it was for him to lull you into a secure tranquil state. You imagined his magic sprinkling over you in a storm of soft red feathers. Cardinal feathers. And suddenly you’re thinking about birds and your ride through the woods and its hard to visualize why you were upset when you escaped form Wings room.

You inquired how long it would last and he uttered as gently as the timber in his voice would allow him, that it would keep sway of you until he fell asleep and his focus dissipated.

So here you are after being filled with air and hazy thoughts made your way to your room ready for blessed sleep but it wasn’t long until you felt like you were on the brink of falling into that dark void that things slowly started clotting back together. Sans had fallen asleep and the pain wasn’t as great but it was still enough to make your chest tighten keeping you awake. 

You tossed and turned even returned to the kitchen to see if maybe if you indulged in stuffing your face like you do at Thanksgiving the warm weight of solid food in your stomach will make you feel sleepy. It was a desperate attempt but even as you looked at the meal you made for them growing cold on your plate in the dark you couldn’t bring yourself to eat anything for fear of throwing up later. 

When you went back to your room Papyrus had stalked up the stairs behind you with his casual light stepping startling you when the gigantic lanky skeleton hovered mere inches behind your back. The look in his eye was that of exhaustion and you knew he was retreating to his room trying to carry himself to bed without passing out along the way. He must have dozed off somewhere downstairs during the aftermath of the altercation.

You thought he was going to argue with you that you were in his way but really he looked ready to keel over and topple right on you. He swayed this way and then that so you took the initiative to gently put your hand upon his back and guide him to his room but he abruptly turned feeling it was too far of a walk and headed straight for your bed. You couldn’t exactly object because he landed face first on your favorite side of the bed. With a groan you rolled the heavy being to his side at least gathering his feet from the edge and onto the mattress before getting to your designated side. 

You couldn’t help but think when he said he would only do it once yet here he was usurping your favorite spot and mocking you by snoring rubbing it in your face that yes that side is the comfier one! 

And that’s how Papyrus ended up in your bed for the second time.

Well you were having a decent dream. You’re not sure when you nodded off but the squirrel and the bunny in your odd cinematic play began arguing. Then the raucous duo transitioned to having Papyrus and Sans tone of voice and that really startled you. You tried to diffuse the situation but then it grew louder and the picture fuzzier. 

You open an eye and groan when the two are going at it, again. 

“Sans, Paps, shut up. Please.” You drag a pillow over your head hoping it will drown out their petty argument.

“I’m jus’ sayin’. Why is it whenever I come in here ta check on the little lady you’re in her bed?!” 

“YOU’VE ONLY EVER BEEN IN HERE TWICE AND THEY BOTH HAPPENED TO BE WHEN I WAS HERE!” You glance at the window, nope, not even a fraction of sunlight to be seen.

“It’s not even morning.” You droll. Sans glances at the clock on the nightstand squinting to see the time before snorting.

If this goes on for much longer you’re going to have a protest and refuse to make them anything else unless they agree to let you get your eight hours. Especially on a night like this one when you need it the most.

“YES! IT IS THREE IN THE MORNING BROTHER! IF YOU INSIST ON THIS GETTING VIOLENT I FEAR WINGS WILL COME IN AND-“

“Knock both our skulls in?” He snorts again at his own terribly timed joke. Your heart jumps in your throat. He’s the last one you want to see right now. Before the sand can dissolve from your eyes and you really are damned not to get rest you decide to interject.

“Guys please. I’m really beat can you just hold off? And why were you even in here this early in the first place?”

“Like I said doll, ta make sure you was sleepin’ alright.” Your face deadpans to him.

”Clearly I’m not.” You muster out dryly. You roll over on your side. “Either kindly leave or I will.” Two more seconds and you wouldn’t deal with either of them. You were willing to kick Papyrus out too if it meant Sans would stop accusing him of being lewd. 

It was blissfully quiet after that and the next time you woke it was morning and the sunlight was fully bathed against the walls of your room. You stifle a yawn that turns into a stretching wide one. The joints in your elbows pop as you arch your back and throw your arms above your head. Your knuckles brush against something hard and you wince expecting to come away with a brush burn from the headboard. But then you look to your left and instead of vacant empty mattress that you expect, in its stead is Sans. 

Your jaw drops open. You can escape on the opposite side and crawl over Paps. Nope. You’re literally stuck between two skeletons in the worst combination of terminology. A skeleton sand which. Or maybe large spoon, toothpick, long spoon.

You look at the peaks of your feet. Maybe you can slide out like a cigarette slipping away from its set place in a compact. That could work. But that also involves slow movement and wiggling. You’re stumped. You’ve never been stuck like this before not even when you rolled into your parents bed as a kid. So this was the compromise those two dolts came to and it involved trapping you. 

You take in a breath and begin slowly easing from your side to your stomach. Next you put your palms beneath you shimmying carefully out of your spot. The top of your feet hook against the edge of the bed making you feel triumphant in this little feat. You use them to pull your weight with minimal movement so the bed doesn’t tremble but stop short when Sans’ red sockets blaze with a risen skeleton. 

“Mornin’ dolly.” And all your efforts are dashed when he drags you back up easily gripping your forearm. You let out a small whine of protest as he does so. Now you’re a bit annoyed as you come eye level with him. He innocently tucks his hands under his cheekbone and his grin grows wider. You however, are not amused.

“Yeah. Morning. Why are you in my bed?”

“I never realized how comfy the spare rooms comfata is!” Yeah huh. Sure. You roll your eyes getting ready to flee for a second time but he sees the tension spike through your body and he non-threateningly puts a hand on your shoulder. Your brow ticks in annoyance.

“Fine. I can trade rooms with you guys so long as I sleep alone.”

“It ain’t fair. How come Paps gets ta sleep wit ya but I get left in da dust?” 

“What would be fair is if I got my room back to myself. But seeing as that isn’t going to happen because you’re both fascinated with your shiny new toy, I’ll settle for boarding in Paps bed tonight.”

“Naw. I’ll jus follow ya over there too.”

“Then the couch.”

“Where ever you go I’ll be too.” You drag your fingers down your face. Why was everything a fight especially when your brain wasn’t fully operating yet? “Besides, ya ain’t a toy doll.”

“Oh good. That’s the highlight of my morning so far. Knowing that I have jealous Sans guarantee and approval that I’m not a plaything.”

“Still ain’t fair.”

“I was with you literally all day yesterday. Alone. With my eyes open and brain awake I’d like to add.”

Sometime during your conversation Paps crawls out of bed wobbling into the bathroom to relieve himself then leaving without a word which seems weirdly unusual to you. Maybe he was embarrassed that he allowed you, a tiny human, to resort to taking care of him. Sans notes the sweep of your gaze.

“He’s always like that before a big hunt.” You look at him startled by the confession. You’re hoping he’s joking.

“What do you mean?”

“Eh, don’t worry about it doll. It’s how he pumps himself up for a job. He prolly wont eat until he gets back lat’a.”

“Don’t you have to work a job today too?”

“Nope. In fact its jus’ you and me today dolly.” His grin is transparently honest and you can only guess his intentions but judging by that look in his eye it doesn’t involve having a tea party.

“Good you can go make breakfast.” You retort rolling out of bed.

“Ah c’mon doll don’t be cruel and leave me on da hook!” You pull on a fluffy robe hanging on a hook on the back of the door intending to leave him in your dust.

“Not after all I did for ya yesterday.” His wry words stop you short. The knob is within your reach yet the guilt of being indebted even deeper than you were before dawns on you. Except this wasn’t a bill that was expected to be paid to all of the brothers. Oh no, this one in particular was meant strictly for Sans. You mentally groan and smack yourself. 

You cast your eyes slowly over your shoulder at the cheeky monster patting the empty spot of where you just were awaiting for you to crawl back in with smug expectancy.

“Not happening.”

“I ain’t gonna use my magic on ya.” 

“I’m sure.”

“Why ya always makin’ me out to be da bad guy, uh?” You flinch but your brain cant help reeling the sparse memories of your interaction with him and all results match with the same thing. 

“Sans. I’m trying to keep myself separate from this equation so I don’t tempt your or mislead our friendship.” His grin melts a little but his smile remains just barely hanging on as something flashes through his eyes.

“See? Ya think I’m some sorta sex fiend?” You cross your arms narrowing your eyes at him. He puts his hands up in defense looking innocently at you. “I’m offended! I haven’t even tried ta put da moves on ya!”

“Says the one who grabbed my butt.”

“You were slipping.” Seriously?

“You made a remark after we made up about having makeup sex.”

“I mean I wouldn’t turn it down if ya asked. I was jus’ puttin’ it out there.” You rub your temples. It seemed impossible to argue with Sans who had an answer for everything as well as a sly quip or joke thrown into it.

He really was utterly impossible.

Your week is filled with endless tasks crammed into every minute of the day due to Sans being the cause for most of the demands. You’ve gathered its his technique in order to distract you and you do suppose it has been keeping your mind off your misery so you aren’t complaining. By the third day you had caught up on every chore and now set out to do maintenance around the house. On the outside.

You had started by shoveling a nice path for the others when they got home late at night. You found a bag of salt which you spread generously in the wake of your work and fixed the broken porch light that hadn’t been touched since you had gotten there. You test it flicking the switch up and down glowing with pride when the blinding glow illuminates the front yard. 

Sans comes up behind you hovering in the doorway.

“Ain’t ya cold doll?”

“Nope! I’ve been shoveling so I’m actually sweating right now. Not to mention it kinda seems like its getting warmer out.” As dusk descends your gaze settles on the horizon and you hum happily to yourself grateful that you were ahead of schedule on keeping up with maintaining the house. It constantly felt like there were dishes that needed scrubbing and laundry that needed washing. It’s what you owe you remind yourself constantly. 

There are silent footfalls from across the way at the hairline of the woods. Wings slinks from the mouth of the shadows into the pool of light making his way towards you both. You yourself take a hesitant step back. Yes you’re still upset that he kept something of that great importance from you but then again you’ve shifted your perspective since then and can see where he was coming from. 

You can see the fatigue on his face and yet he still offers you both a light smile that quickly melts as the gears turn in his head.

“Why are you out here without the proper attire? It’s still winter and therefore cold.”

You extend the olive branch brushing your hair behind your ears.

“Well I-“

“I HOPE DINNER IS READY, THE GREAT PAPYRUS REQUIRES SUSTENANCE TINY HUMAN!” 

You three turn to Paps trudging up the drive with a determined pace. Oh crap...you’ve been too busy with getting other things done you’ve neglected the grub. You don’t have the heart to tell him no. You rock back and forth upon your heel afraid to express with great regret he will just have to go hungry, or heat up a cup of noodles, whichever will make him less...huffy.

“I forgot.”

“WHAT?! YOU OF ALL CREATURES SHOULD NOT FORGET THAT ONE MUST EAT THREE SQUARE MEALS A DAY, AND SOMETIMES SECOND BREAKFAST! IT IS WHAT KEEPS YOUR LITTLE BODIES MOVING!” 

And there he is in all his inflated Papyrus anger.

Aside from no dinner the night before you’ve noticed a pattern with Sans. And that pattern being he’s driving you nuts following you around like a lost puppy.Its getting just a little out of hand given it feels less like bonding and more like he’s become a correction guard. 

He’s even somehow managed to wriggle his way into your bed smushing your against the lanky skeleton who will never admit to enjoying cuddling with you and therefore that is the reason he tromps his way to your room at night. But now threes a crowd and you miss being able to freely roll to each edge without a skeleton stopper. 

You were all for spooning but this was a bit much. You still liked the freedom of sprawling your limbs splaying them this way and that in an array of poses. Now you were bunched up like a crumpled piece of paper. Your limbs are sore and you need to stretch out or else you’ll go mad.

You manage to kick one leg out and are ready to rearrange Sans’ arms but as you turn looking over your shoulder you’re met with a pair of scarlet spheres blazing at you from the darkness. 

“Y-you’re awake?”

“Ya keep movin’.” 

“O-oh...well I was...h-hey, what’s with that look?”

He readjusts sliding up to sit upon the throne of his hand stabling his elbow into the mattress as he looks down at you. “Wh-what?”

“Nu’n’.” Now you’re really confused. 

“Tell me.”

“Just go back ta sleep.”

What Sans is reluctant to confess to you is the same thing he was a hairs breath away from blurting it all out to you on the snowmobile ride a week ago but couldn’t. As he gazed at the back of that pretty head of yours he felt something spark within him, it was already alive and stuttering but now it raged in flames. He noticed early on the way your kindness enveloped everyone of them in the house. Something that never happened between the three of the bachelors before.

He noticed the way Wings relaxed around you and the way Papyrus gave you comfort when needing the monsters to be chased away. But what was his role? All the time you chided him for casting spells on you and yet you were the one weaving your own magic in the house. All three were wrapped around your little finger enamored. Sans watched as the elder dressed the little doll in lovely clothes that clung deliciously to the matter that made the shape of you. 

He noticed when Paps would slightly lower the timber of his voice whenever you walked into the room hiding the blush upon his high cheekbones trying to seem busy with preparing meals for the three of you. Where was his place in your world? He didn’t give you things like Wings, or helped you learn new things like Paps, he was just a cobweb stuck in the corner of the house forgotten and tattered forever stuck and browning as time went on and the house advanced without him.

So when you keened interest in having a snowmobile outing he felt pride that you wanted to finally do something with just him. During the ride he was thinking of how small you were, how soft and warm as you pressed flush against his back. He liked when you teased him and dished out jokes of your own as well as taking his. He was afraid of the fire inside him when the dawning realization of just how upset he got whenever the other two gave you attention festered inside him. He hated wanting to be pitted against his brothers in the hopes of gaining your affections.

So now here you are, his pretty doll, asleep in the haze of the moonlight, long lashes fanned against her cheeks. It was plain jealousy. He didn’t like it. Why does this little creature that should be inferior draw out all these emotions he’s so cleverly hidden away for eons?

Humans are so complicated and infuriating. After all these years the complexity of slowly peeling back the layers to understand them is nothing compared to the hold this tiny thing before him lays slumbering peacefully. She almost reminds him of...he shakes his thoughts away. Possessive. He had to be careful of that. She doesn’t need anything more to make her life complicated. Yet that prickly sensation in his hands is starting up again and its getting harder to ward off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this is long I got carried away fite me. But it gets cereal so grab the milk kids.


	13. Your Corner

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

You thumb through a page in a neglected book stuffed amongst a collection of Dickenson. You found it when you set upon coupling the books by title and author which looks much more pleasing to your eye and found but one cook book abandoned amongst the collection. The recipes are old but you want to expand your knowledge in cooking. You can only go so far with inventing new ways to dice and slice chicken pairing it with sides.

You find one that’s simple but will carry a little flavor for a novice such as yourself. With the thaw in the air and the lingering ill kept thoughts of your step sisters demise in the back of your mind you set to dulling your senses as your meander through your task. Your thoughts change so quickly its like a stone against a glass lake and a seed of an idea implants itself into the back of your mind. Perhaps you can begin a small fresh veggie garden of your own come spring should you still occupy residency here.

As you await the brothers arrival you find yourself alone in the grand home. No buzzing Papyrus to fill the empty spaces with his loud barking or Sans voice to goat him on. You even miss the maddening scratching of Wingdings pencil against paper. Your heart lifts as Paps is the first to enter. 

“Welcome back!” You chime as you wave your wooden spoon at him. He hooks the brim of his hat against the peg of a hanger shrugging off his coat and loosening his tie.

“I FIND IT ODD THAT YOUR HUMAN WORLD CHANGES CLIMATE SO DRASTICALLY AND WITHOUT WARNING!” You giggle softly.

“Not climate. You mean weather. It does tend to do that. One second it could be blanketed in snow and the next completely green. Nature is fickle in that sense.” You stir the noodles against the beef and peppers. 

“WHAT IS THAT SMELL?!” You’re glad that your back is to him because you did not just spend two hours trying to get this recipe right only for him to insult it and you in the same sentence.

“Something new.” You chew back to him not holding it against him. They do have different palettes than your kind where oddly enough just downing mustard apparently gets one of them drunk. 

“IS IT SUPPOSED TO SMELL LIKE GARBAGE?” You suppress the urge to have your facial features tic at his insults but remind yourself he’s a little naive. Or maybe they really wont enjoy the meal you’ve tried to slave over.

“It’s not garbage. How do you even know if you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?”

“PASTA WOULD HAVE BEEN A MUCH BETTER CHOICE.”

“Great Papyrus, we cannot just constantly get nutrition from having noodles and heartburn from red sauce.”

“YOU HUMANS SAY SUCH STRANGE THINGS.” He boasts while he takes his seat. You accompany the neglected table by preparing it for four place settings and getting Paps a tall glass of cold water. He gulps it down in one go leaving you to set out a pitcher so he can tend to it on his own time while you get the rest of the dishes ready. Between takes you furiously scrub away at the copious amount of dishes stacked and used in preparing this meal. 

“You’ve been coming into my room a lot.” You catch the red tint of his high cheekbones before he scratches at the ivory hardened calcium by the hollow shell of his nose before looking away unable to meet your eye. It’s cute. You smile to yourself while you portion out the dishes putting them in their appointed spots. 

“I DID NOT THINK SANS WOULD BE THERE THIS MORNING.” 

“That too was a surprise to me. Great Papyrus.” His chest puffs in pride as he takes a hearty scoop full of stroganoff while piling on some carrots. You set out a bottle of scotch as well in case the brothers decide they need something stronger for the duration of the night. Mustard for Sans.

The other two attended dinner after coming in halfway through your meal. You tried stalling Paps as long as you could before his temperament was no longer appeased and you yielded to him shoveling in bites. By the time the other two came in unison through the door you felt guilty for nibbling on a few carrots without them but they easily caught up to the pair of you not minding at all that you helped yourselves without them.

Paps insisted on cleaning up the dishes so you took to enjoying your time in a hot bath infused with exfoliating beads that burst around you like patches of silk. You decide not to pamper your scalp this time leaving the throws of your hair up into a bun. You climb out and crawl into bed a puddle of warm goo while you melt into your mattress. You have blissful quiet moments to yourself until the door opens after the invitation of light rapping knuckles warns you of Wings entry. Your body tenses but you keep still as he enters and are able to get your eased muscles to prop you up.

You plant yourselves against the side of the bed sitting up as he strolls over. You watch him confused but his hands take up and the slender phalanges find your cheeks holding your head in place as you gaze up into the beautifully cavernous eyes filled with a singular burning amethyst coal.

“Kitten.” Ironic for he’s the one that purrs sweetly to you. The pet name wraps around your ears just as smoothly as the bath beads. It sends a shock of silver through you hearing him address only you in this silky tone. You’ve never heard it since he’s always gruffly shouting at his brothers or feigning silence behind the breath of a cigarette. 

You feel a new lightness roll over you and you look up at him through your long lashes abashed to be called such a thing.

“Yes?” You call back just as quietly and with a weakening spirit but pounding heart.

“Are you still mad at me?” Your own fingers glide up to take the texture of his in. You can feel the little craters in the dense bone of his hands. Like the rock face of the moon and just as beautiful and luminous as it is against the stark black of the sky.

Your words are caught in your throat so you resort to shaking your head. In turn you can feel the span of his thumb fan over your warm cheek. Your lips suck in air with a quiet gasp that parts your lips and you yearn to know what he looked like as a human. 

He brings his face nearer to yours but as you expect him to touch down upon your lips with the steel cage of his teeth, you find something warm and almost plump press against your forehead. Yet again you find yourself surprised from the gentle action as well as the imitation of a warm pair of lips touching your brow. Magic you think but as he pulls back you catch a glimpse of something that shimmers against the iridescence of the foreground. Like touching a forcefield and having the light follow the track of your fingers if you were to glide it across this way and that.

You blink and the light is gone. But you can still feel the warmth lingering against your skin. He withdraws leaving you an even more tangled mess and before your legs can straighten to peruse after the wounded skeleton Sans is in the doorway looking surprised that you’re hand is reaching towards the door.

“You alright dolly?” You blink coming back to yourself. It felt like a dream. But it did just happen. 

“Y-yes...I was just getting up to close the door.”

“I got it.” Your hand drops to your side as he lets himself in.

“Um...”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I was thinking...maybe I-” And then your door opens again and the barking loud echo of Paps voice fills up the empty spaces of your room. Great. Maybe setting drinks out wasn’t a good idea after all. They both stagger about flaunting themselves around your room like drunken fools.

“Guys I...”

They rile one another up sing songing a tune you’re not privy too just as Jukin had done the same those months ago, and cause Wings to order them to shut their gobs or else sending the pair into a fit of raging laughter and giggling like girls. You gingerly smack yourself in the face. How on earth did these idiots get to have a fearsome reputation. Lucious was ready to piss himself at the mere mention of it and yet here you were behind the curtain of the fearsome namesakes and they could scarcely frighten a fly let alone a mouse.

You roll into bed had trying your best to press your weight against the bumbling skeletons to shoo them out of your room but found your excursion to be futile since you were the one wasting more energy trying to rid yourself of them. When they could just as easily have batted you away.

You succumb to your spot and despite building pillow barriers are joined by the skeletons and stuffed into your position like the night before in a tangle of ivory arms and subjected to hearing the loud snoring of their dragon breaths.

The next night Wings had left first as per usual, followed by the other two leaving you alone yet again. Which after yesterday was more than welcome by you. You thought about taking the sled out for another run by yourself but thought better of it. What if something went wrong and you were stranded? Sure Sans would deduce you took the sled for yourself but what if he couldn’t get to you wherever it should stall?

You throw in laundry and as its tumbling to dry on the more nonessential garments you take to hanging the others delicates to dry on the line outside the house. It’ll be warm soon and then you can run away any time you’d like. Once upon a time that was your thought process. Now, you just wanted to carve out a little patch for yourself and turn it into your veggie garden. Weird how your thoughts changed so precipitously these past few months.

As you toss up another jacket careful not to cinch the clothing when pinching it with the pin you feel a hand clamp down upon your shoulder. You turn to fight and scream when you realize its just Sans returning.

“Don’t do that!” He chuckles amused by your reaction.

“Sorry dolly. Didn’t mean ta scare ya. Just wanted to tell ya I’m back.”

“Welcome back Sans.” You omit dryly not amused at his antics and continuing your work of getting their linens on the line.

“I uh...I wanted to show you something.” You raise a brow questioning the skeleton who keeps his smile plastered on his cheery looking face.

“Okay?” You concede as he takes your hand and guides you inside the house. He scrapes his shoes on the rough texture of the mat before discarding them and you doing the same hanging up your jacket on the peg. He guides you to the living room where a box lay before you. Odd.

He motions for you to kneel and as you do you pluck at the big bow atop the yellow paper drawing it loose. Your eyes immediately alight as a small nose presses out from the top of the box. 

A kitten. A long orange haired tabby. Your eyes glisten and your heart races a mile a minute as you scoop the little thing out and into your bosom. 

“Sans...he’s beautiful...”

“Yeah, we only needed one female in da house. Since we’re all fightin’ for ya anyway I figured you could use protection while we’re out and about.” You beam up at him overjoyed at the mewling purring ball of fluff in your arms as it noses at your skin on your bare throat taking in its new masters scent. It’s big blue eyes and small face look up at you as it boops you under your chin and the long whiskers tickle against your face. You want to smother it in love and hugs but know better.

“Thank you!” 

He watches you as you parade around the house with your little darling happily caging him against your arms. He watches as you coo cute words into his fuzzy little pointed ears and is happy when the wee things accepts you as his owner affectionately nuzzling his little head in the crook of your arm and neck. It gives him great pride seeing his little lady happy. Even more so when you praise him and release your own affection onto him with the touch of your hand and the nuzzling of your own head against his shoulder.

Sure the cute thing can have his spotlight. For now. He knows he’ll get it back once it gets a little bigger and that wont take too much more time. Couple of weeks at best. But all the while she’ll know of your generosity and who it was that got her this doting gift. He swells with pride. This is something Wings didn’t give her. This is something Paps would never think to do. Just him. And the way she gazes fondly at you with that warm expression upon her face is enough to encourage him to move onto the next phase of his plan.


	14. Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer to you dear reader there is finally nsfw In this chpt (insert Elmo with flames behind him) enjoy it x3

**B L A C K** | **P E A R L**

It’s during the wee hours of morning on an unusually warm day that certain events would take place. The wide set skeleton rouses before his lovely lady and looks upon her as she sleeps. The gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her feather soft hair fans around her graceful neck, and even the way she twitches at times probably due to a nightmare. He drinks all of this in and can feel when his thoughts ripen and then wither into something more sinful. 

What would it be like to allow himself to feel again? Not since...what would it be to weigh one of those perky breasts in his hands? Would it be as nice as the time he was able to cop a feel from her ass during the outing? What would she taste like? Would she have the same scent as the shampoo his brother provides her? Or would she have a little salt mixed in from the exertion of the day as she grinds away task by task always getting things done before any of them get home? He’s caught her by the end of it many times as beads of sweat glisten against her brow, a proud inner glow as the fruits of her labor are done for another day. 

He thinks briefly if he could get away with tracing the curving outline of her body before she wakes to catch him? It would be worth it alright, and it would be the added bonus of seeing her face scrunch into that angry little glare she often regards him with. His fault or not. As much as he feels like a child tugging on his fair lasses locks before running away acting like a child again, he doesn’t wish to tease her enough to get her to turn against him again. He couldn’t stand it when she was irate at him. Couldn’t stand it when she would excuse herself from his presence and float into another room to give one of the two all her attention. 

He wants to soak her all in. Wants her to look up at him the way she does to his siblings. His joints are suddenly stiff and aching with want. He flexes his fingers floating them over the smooth crest of her hips and stops just a hairsbreadth away when she groans softly in her sleep and rolls so her back is to him. Paps and Wings are long gone, disappearing into the night before the light of dawn, and that just left he and his lady all alone as he wanted it. Save the little fur ball curled up and purring like a soft lulling engine against the top of her head. But he’s a harmless contender. 

His mind was made up. Locked firmly on what it was he wished to do before this night burned another day up without him having the courage to do what it is that he intends. But first, it will require prepping. He’s never been one for plans but this is important enough that he’s willing to push boundaries for his little lady. 

—- . . . —-

The bed is empty but not cold. There’s a hot spot particularly atop your head that requires your attention. Tiny pink beans obscure your vision as little paws press into the back of your lids gingerly. You swipe them away before he has a chance to blind you with the reflex of his claws sitting up and finding it odd when the weight of other bodies aren’t by your side. All three probably went off to the Underground leaving you by your lonesome. You scoop the feline into your arms as he twitches his tail mewling with a nervous trembling coursing through his body. Yep. He definitely has to go to the bathroom. 

You’re hesitant to let him out into the yard for fear of having him book it for the wilderness but you have reservations on keeping the little darling cooped up like you.You wait while the feline saunters to a spot of his choosing and relieves himself before trotting back to curl his body around your ankles. You smile as the sea of fur brushes against your leg tickling your bare feet. You giggle and task yourself with making Sans and yourself breakfast. 

By the time you get back in its already displayed for you steaming and ready to serve. Your stomach growls as you eagerly eye up each dish salivating when you see the fluffy eggs and crispy bacon. Oh Kami-sama you dearly want to dig in but find reservations when it comes to eating without the chef present. It felt rude and ill mannered of you to devour all the plates so carefully cooked. In hindsight though—the brothers scarf your stuff down without having the curiously of praising you on your meals.Its fine by you but a small thank you every now and then would be appreciated.

Not wanting to sink to a petty level you sit in your seat while the cat beneath your feet bats at the dangling tablecloth threatening to dethrone all the dishes in one primitive strike to the cloth. You bat away his little paw sending him in a playful spooked dash to the other room. 

“This looks delicious Sans.” He turns, apron fastened around his waist. Unusual for him. There’s a syrup stain as well as a matching yoke spill patterned against the cloth. You smile softly seeing the softer side of Sans and drink a hearty dreg of your coffee. 

“Thanks doll.” He discards the smock plopping down in his seat piling his work onto his own plate before handing you the array of foods. You’re thankful he took the time to get up before you and make you something. You’ll definitely need the energy in order to do your chores for the day. Not to mention its the smallest thing that makes you contented. Happy that you’re even considered equal despite the weight of your debt on your conscience the entirety of the day.

—- . . . —-

It seemed to be working. Without the actual divination of a real charm at play the wide set skeleton still found it odd the way his little lady continued to reward his efforts with subtle expressions. She would regard him by obediently waiting until he was seated at the head of the table and ready to serve her. Other times she glimpsed little glances over her shoulder giving the warmest of smiles that melted the frigid freezer burned edges inside him. 

Each time she praised him or even stroked the syllable of his name with that beautiful spongy tongue of hers made him tingle all over inside and come alive. He etched the lines of her face with his eyes, took in the way she would generously chew a mouthful of his creations only to look up in a timidly shy smile through her lashes at him. Unconsciously he felt his phalanges digging into the tables edge grateful they’re hidden from view behind the plethora of sustenance. 

Each day he lost to the war raging in the trenches between his body and mind. Often times the larger mass that made him up almost crumbled and took the winning side. He could feel the heat in his loins stirring, threatening to swell beneath his finely fit slacks shaped to give him meaty curves as though skin existed beneath the articles of clothing he wore. 

Of course many times he thought of how this little human woman probably had no desire for a skeleton let alone a man without the aid of skin to shape him. No one wanted a bag of bones. No one in their right mind anyway. None that didn’t have a fetish at least in his mind is what he thought of her. But there was no mistaking his part. He wanted her. Somewhere in these brief months of closed quartered bliss he had wanted to desperately to take her anywhere he could steal her away. It almost happened when she teased him during the outing in the woods. 

He could easily have pinned her to a tree and fucked her senseless. He craved to see the other expressions she could make. He wanted to be the orchestrator of just that. Wanted to be the one to control her emotions and make her bend to his will at the simple stroke of his fingers. His eyes nibble against her bottom lip vividly in his thoughts as she dabs the lower soft pink tier with her napkin blotting away a splash of yoke. 

He swallows hard and hollow. It was all going smoothly. For now. But once she realized what his intentions were by nightfall he knew he would sever this bridge of trust and harmony between them. She would either be his or not at all.

—- . . . —-

You clear the table and get to work vacuuming and cleaning as much as you can stand it before organizing what you can in every room. Apparently you’ve mastered your craft because there is barely much to do. You expected their rooms to be torn apart like the unorganized boys they are and yet it seems that this week they had you in mind and were respectful enough to make their own beds and put the laundry in the baskets by the door which is already in the wash. You smile at Paps attempt to make his bed up and redo it creasing the edges and crinkled corners left unfolded. 

You balance the weight of his basket upon your hip gliding out of the room relieved you don’t have a heavy work list ahead of you as you exit the room and nearly run into Sans along the way. You give him a polite smile but can tell something seems to be eating at him. He was tense during breakfast for some reason and your mind reels back to before when all three kept an important detail from you. You worry your mother has been targeted. You hope that one of the brothers is at least trying to keep an eye on her and out of harms way.

Then again, he might just be like the puppy he is and wants attention from you. Typical. 

“Need something?” You notice his ruby spheres travel to your collarbone glancing at the crystal always around your neck now. You’ve grown fond of it and it is the only piece of jewelry you own so mind as well make use of it. 

“Gonna be gettin’ a fire ready. Wanted to know if you’d like ta try somethin’ different tonight and eat on the floor?” You raise your brows in surprise. That was certainly a left field question. It does sound nice though...

“Sure! I’ll clear the coffee table and make sure to get down the coasters and pot holders. I doubt Wings will allow it again if one of us spills something.”

—- . . . —-

He pulled out all the stops. He took down the softest blanket he could find in the attic, washed it before his little lady had the chance to discover his plot, and let it dry out in the yard. Once every fiber was water free he fluffed it out evenly at each edge and was more than pleased when the cotton took to the fire and warmed up. He stoked the logs, made sure there were logs next to the hearth in the iron basket, and that the grate was secure by the latch. 

He found it comical when she offered to clear away the table when he already took care of it. He used glass cleaner until the table shined like the face of a diamond accenting against the glint of firelight and catching on the special pitcher he brought out from the top shelf of the cupboards. Accented white creamy swirls twisting into roses with artistic strokes of marigolds lazily splotched in square dabs making shapes that somehow transformed into the flora. The gloss winked in the light each lick of flame to the mouth of the chimney and its belly was full with red nectar. 

He went deep down into the cellar summoning the best bottle of wine he and his brothers had snagged during one of the raids on a trafficking house. Bastards. But what better occasion to use it than to spite those pricks by reveling in their victory and celebrating with it for a good cause? Sure, he cheated by running into town while his little lady was busy with her chores and bought sweets he thought she would like, but he knew shite about how to make desserts. He tossed the packages arranging them in tasteful displays that he figured would be aesthetically pleasing to her. He put the more muted delicacies on the edge and the vivid colors on the inside of the decorative plate.

He even had a silver platter made with tea, cream, and sugar should she choose to decline the wine and pair the treats with something that wouldn’t inebriate her. He chose cookies with a more spongy texture just in case she did however, wish to accept the wine and therefore they could absorb the wine and fill her belly so she didn’t end up spilling her guts from all his efforts of putting this together.

He was eagerly awaiting for her arrival. He chose the best outfit he had pressed earlier in the week. His signature red undershirt with the black pearl cuff links adorned with matching buttons on his dress shirt. He made sure to smooth out his lapel lining up the curves to feed in his vermillion tie. He snatched his darkest suit in his closet making sure to spritz the fabric with a light accent of cologne. The best substitute he could think of for his lack of skin. Nothing too overbearing. 

He pushed the sofa a bit closer in case she didn’t feel like sitting on the rug waiting for her perched upon it. It took all his self control to keep from bouncing his leg until finally he could hear the soft footfalls descending the stairs and he thought another second and he was going to burst. 

—- . . . —-

Since Sans offered to do dinner somewhere other than the kitchen you expected the other two weren’t going to make it home in time for it. Sure you wondered what kept them from returning but it wasn’t your place to poke your nose into their business. Not when your own was concluded. That just gave you even more anxiety. How much longer would you have to work until your debt was dealt with? Now that nothing kept you bound to the brothers or to the Underground. You couldn’t just tell them that you were going back to civilization. Not with the threat of Lucious still lingering in the air. 

You round the corner and are taken aback when you find the display Sans put out for you. It was all a little too close to being...but it couldn’t be like that. Not between you and him. This was just a casual dinner. Until your eyes look over the setting. The warm and cozy rug, the food, the candles, the fire, the pitcher of wine, and even Sans was sharply dressed. Now you felt foolish for choosing something you typically went for. Comfort. 

You drag your feet glancing at the thick bowls filled with an equal measure of thick stock of broth sitting almost solid at the top of the brim. There are bits of bacon coating the surface. 

“That looks delicious. What kind of soup is it?”

“Broccoli potato soup. Its about the only thing I know how ta make.” He motions for you to seat yourself next to him. To keep space and avoid the night spiraling into something deeper you opt for the rug opposite of him. 

—- . . . —-

So he was a little crestfallen when she chose to put a table between them but didn’t hold it against her. She’s always been timid when it comes to being near him and its a quirk of hers that he finds rather cute. Still, its not a full rejection so therefore there’s a small measure of hope that he can fulfill his deepest desires before morning. 

The evening pans out like he expected. But he promised not to use his magic to manipulate her emotions again. Though it was very fucking hard to do just that, and tempting, he kept reminding himself this was for the sake of having all of you. Not just half either.

He poured a small glass and was pleased when she accepted, watching every precious drop roll down her graceful throat. His own thirst never being quenched even as he downed his own cup. The shadows danced behind her back creating the most stunning ethereal glow of firelight around her. As if her soul glowed like fire itself. He couldn’t help watching as she ate and the aura pulsates around her. An angel sent from the bowels of the Underground. How did this happen exactly? And when did it happen?

When did she crash into their lives and turn everything on its head? At what point in the few months she’s resided in their residence did she cast her own charm on each of them? He could feel the twitch in himself trying to radiate out to her. He wanted to make her squirm in her seat like he made him. She didn’t even know the power she held over him and each time their eyes met was another coax towards the monster inside him. 

He wanted to sever everything here and now. He was doing his best to listen to what it was she was idly chatting about but as his thoughts turned sinister he wanted nothing more than to either close off completely to save her from the beast raging inside and keep his mask of a gentleman on, or abandon her completely. Avoid her at every cost until either he or she would need to leave the house. 

“____.” Those beautiful big eyes of hers snapped to attention. Fuck he was enamored. She was all his. She was all alone in the same space as he was and he never felt fuller. But there was still time. He was still willing to pour himself back out until he was empty for the sake of saving her from himself if she so chose. The fear of rejection was too cumbersome but before he could lose out to it he gathered his strength and seized his opportunity. 

He dared to move closer. Abandon the sofa and slip onto the carpet in a fluid motion suddenly embodying the thought of being a predator trying not to frighten his prey away. She wasn’t running. Not yet at least. A good sign. But fuck it if his soul wasn’t beating and quivering as he drew nearer.

—- . . . —-

You watch as he joins you on the blanket feeling every muscle in your body tense. No...this was Sans...how dare you think the worst of him. You’re relieved when you don’t feel something warm or silky touching the deepest part inside you like before. He’s not using magic but you’re still worried he might.

He’s getting closer and you know the barrier you built will be crossed. Is this what you thought? Is it finally happening? Sans had the brass to finally initiate the first move and tempt you? A month ago you would have no choice but now that it was an option that presented itself and you were able to decline intimate contact you find yourself stunned that you were actually right when you thought briefly he was flirting with you. It was a passing notion and so silly that you didn’t think a monster could find a human attractive and yet here he was closing the gap between you, touching his cold hand upon yours. 

There it was again. That warm sensation of flesh pressed against the arch of your neck. You can almost feel the heat of his breath fanning over your skin. These things should be impossible. You should feel bone, hard teeth touching down on your nerve endings and yet there’s the shimmering illusion of lips. You let out a soft gasp thinking back to Wings bequeathing a kiss upon your forehead. You close your eyes to absorb the contact willing your body to keep still as his hand glides across your stomach to your side securing you in your place.

You’d be lying if you didn’t consider this. What would each of them be like? Gentle? Rough? Rude? Gruff? You took Sans as the roughest one out of them all. The kind that would flip you to your stomach and fuck you like an animal. Yet here he was putting a lot of effort into keeping you content easing your fears away. You weren’t inexperienced. It was, admittedly, one of the first things you basically did once you settled into your dorm at college. And for once you’re glad to have one of the biggest moments out of the way. It saves you the time and heartache of being foolish enough to call it love. 

Sometimes it was no more than scratching an itch, or feeding the soul when the flesh hungered for it. Humans after all were social beings and craved contact. Even if it resulted in a brief passing night of being tangled in a strangers arms. It did feel a tad different. You came to know Sans. Came to understand who he was as a being. Found it to be more intimate than the one night stands you had from before.

He curiously tangles his fingers into the locks of your hair gliding his bones smoothly through the silky waves without the hinderance of knots. At least you hope you tended to your hair enough so that you didn’t neglect a section. They catch, purposely, weaving like a web and drawing your head back. 

His lips travel lower and lower until they ravish your shoulder drawing the lining of the sweater away until its bare and easily accessible to him. You furrow your brows rewarding him with another gasp. You want to watch his movements. See where he’s going to kiss you next but he’s purposely trapped your head. Maybe he’s embarrassed. But its cruel for him to keep your in the dark like this. 

He pins you beneath his weight, you can only watch as his hulking mass hovers over you. How the hell does this work exactly? You highly doubt he has...ya know...Your thoughts are bouncing through your head like marbles rattling around going from one thought to the next. But it drowns into white noise whenever he touches his tiers down on a different place over your body.

—- . . . —-

Fuck, she’s making the most erotic sounding noises with just the intake of her breath. Its enough to spur him on but he’s trying his damndest to be gentle with her. He could very easily rut into her like an animal in heat but his little lady is special and the rewards she’s giving him for his restraint is sweeter than any one minute release. 

She’s so soft. Softer than the silkiest lining he’s ever slipped around his body. The fullness of her flesh pressed flush against his fingers was something he couldn’t even compare. She sucks in her gut when he glides the tips of his fingers over the smooth expanse of her exposed stomach. He strokes every dip and curve until they dare to wind up the slope of her rib cage to the valley of her breasts. 

She inhales sharply looking at him with those wide doe like eyes of hers. Fear. He stops his momentum retreating back to her sides while using his free hand to cup her cheek. She curls her fingers into the fabric of his jacket upon his shoulder. He can feel them trembling. If he opens his mouth to speak to her he fears that she’ll escape up to her room. He offers a soft shh touching down over her lips barely ghosting them against the soft petals. Her quaking stuttering breath slips back behind her teeth and she summons a soft strange smile. 

Even in earnest moments she pierces through him like a sharp sword. He tests the limits of her allotment by rolling up the hem of her sweater. Her fingers curl into a death grip against his shoulder. So no shirt coming off. Disappointing but he can work with it. She surprises him with the slight of hand. He’s so focused on the one touching him that he neglects to keep an eye on the hidden one. 

She undoes the leather of his belt working her fingers to free the loop of it from the iron peg. Maybe she wants things to be done and over with. Or maybe—her need burns just as brightly as his own. Her skin feels hot to the touch. He searches her eyes for hesitancy or resistance. He can see clearly she has reservations about proceeding but wont stop him from freeing the bulge beneath the swell of his pants. 

—- . . . ——

You gulp nervously when you feel heat twitching against your palm as you undo his pants. But the thing pulsating beneath your hand is glowing red but undoubtedly in the form and shape of a penis. Veins included. Maybe you would spend more time observing it with a thousand questions at the ready but—it twitches beneath your touch rearing to go. A milky drop of precum glides down the expanse of him touching down against your stomach. 

How long has it really been for you? And with a monster? This has to be a new level of sin for you. Wings made sure to give you whatever you needed and on that list of requests you made was your prescriptions. You don’t know how exactly but he brings them faithfully and without question each month stacking them on the tabletop of the nightstand. One of them is the little round compass of birth control. You’re really thankful you have it now. Thankful they even provided it to you. Thankful you didn’t show up at their house with a pregnant belly with a wolf hybrid roiling around in your gut. 

Sans breaks the silence causing you to jump slightly in anticipation and fear.

“Are you sure?” To stop now would be cruel on your part. But the fact that he even offered when he was this aroused and close to cumming all over your stomach was miracle enough to trust him. You nod afraid that if you answer him verbally you’ll chicken out and run away. He parts your legs smirking when he sees how slick your thighs sheen against the firelight. Your cheeks heat embarrassed. 

Fucking Sans. Of course he takes the moment to gloat with his stupid smug expression. He guides his head in shoving himself deep until he’s at the hilt. Its hot and alive just like any other mans member yet it feels like there’s a vibration of magic coursing through his. You gasp in protest feeling him fill you completely up and he stays there assessing your expression. Bastard. 

You feel your knees shaking against his sides, the rough fabric of his pants touches against the swollen pearl of your clit. You whine softly hoping he moves soon so the friction can rub against the hood and send you into a deeper sense of euphoria. Sans grunts curling his own hands into fists against the folds of the blanket beneath your back. He sharply hisses the word fuck before withdrawing his hips and driving in deep. 

You’re also glad that he’s still wearing his pants because its a nice buffer between you and hardened bone grinding painfully against your skin. Maybe you wouldn’t mind hipbone grating against hipbone but raw rocky bone against sensitive skin isn’t an experience you want to chance for your first take.

Your arms tighten around the broad expanse of his back as you try to find your hold of support on him while he drives into you. Each snaking thrust creating delicious momentum against the slick spongy walls of your cunt. You moan into his breastbone getting even more turned on by his grunting. You pant in unison with him until each of your voices gets lost in their own tune. His primitive growling and yours moans that are stuttered and broken with each pelvic thrust. 

He feels alive. Pulsating within you with a raw heat that you never imagined any of the brothers could have. Yet its as real as those kisses. As real as your own warm body. Again and again he drives deeper, harder, and faster until you can feel the waves of pulsation coursing through you. You warn him in breathy breaks that you’re going to cum and this in turn causes him to throb ready to release earlier than he held out for. 

He rolls his fingers over your clit sending you into a spiral of spasms and locked limbs as you arch your back and pelvis into him crying out his name. You release onto his member coating it in thick hot liquid while he spills his seed into you filling your cunt with lava. You both come back down from the blindingly white exertion and take a few moments to look at one another getting your breath to steady again and revel in the aftershocks. 

Sans withdraws himself, the red glow as well as the penis disappearing. You’d wonder if it was even real to begin with had you not just felt the evidence of the intermingled juices of both your efforts spill from your slit pooling in hot magma against your ass. You shutter as it glides down slicking your inner thighs. Sans scoops you into his arms abandoning your panties and taking you up to your room. You assume its for round two. Your skin is still stinging with leftover heat from your body as well as the fireplace but he blindsides you yet again when he props you down upon the toilet seat. 

He draws a bath for you rolling up his sleeves and testing the temperature with the tips of his fingers. You cant help but smile. He’s concerned with your hygiene? You pegged him all wrong. At least in this department. You had it in your head he was a wam-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy. And yet here he is sweetly tossing in bath beads and swirling the water around until the surface of the water burps with bubbles.

He even turns when you undress. You slip in feeling the water engulf your entire body away. He tasks himself with dampening the cloth and clearing away any sweat left over upon your shoulders and neck. You’re exhausted. And grateful. As you once again get lost in capturing this moment in your mind you hear the door downstairs let in two noisy skeletons arguing. Well—one barking at the other. And it isn’t Paps surprisingly. Wings is coming up the stairs. Sans looks at you startled. You’re both going to be caught red handed. Shit... 


End file.
